Lusty Beggars

That Belfast weekend two years ago was a memorable experience for so many reasons, not forgetting the beautiful wedding at Lusty Beg Island. The weather behaved like a perfect gentleman; wonderful with a hint of stroppiness in the form of raindrops just as the bride and groom kissed. The number that fell could probably be counted on one hand but it did make me want to shout ‘it’s spitting, it’s spitting, everybody in’ at an inopportune moment. I managed to calm my inner comic and avoided spoiling the big day.

In fact, narrowly avoiding spoiling the big day seemed to be a theme for the wedding, the groom had forgotten the edit of the ‘first dance’; cue a number of people frantically downloading the track from iTunes on their iPhones. It was sorted, but with a short break in proceedings. Then of course there was the obligatory domestic amongst the wedding guests, which fortunately only became evident the morning after when we had to ferry a guest member back to Belfast because his ‘missis’ had left him stranded on the island. He didn’t seem to mind much and ensured he had a number of bottles of beer for the journey back to Belfast, just to ‘take the edge off the journey you understand’.

I also seem to remember ‘breaking’ the father of the groom after having him bust out some moves with me on the dance floor. It really was a great wedding and the black suede Manolos spent most of the day on my feet; I say most of the day as they did have to sit out some of the dancing, apparently they were a little tired and they knew that I was having the first pinch of the neuroma. Bless them, for being so understanding; they didn’t sit in the corner though, after all no one puts baby in the corner.

Like most of my heeled shoes these Manolos haven’t seen the outside of my wardrobe in at least a year and when I checked them out earlier today, in order to take the photo I noticed that sadly they’re a tad more battered than I thought they were, guess I’ll have to keep them after all…

I'll take them!

The shop assistant watched me suspiciously as I wandered around the shop picking out my favourite shoes. I didn’t know at the time but it seems that in high-end retail units they always display the smallest size that they have, I realised this after asking her three times if they had certain pairs in my size and she always replied, ‘the smallest size is the size on display’, who would have thought it eh? It didn’t take me long to realise that there was probably only four pairs in my size in the entire shop. I’m a 35.5 and for those that don’t know European sizes that translates to “effin’ small”. When trying three of the pairs on I walked out of them like an infant practising in mommy’s shoes, but the pair that had the strap across and the cute gold button was the perfect pair, heels like skewers, jet black exterior, grey leather lining, did I mention the heels? Oh yeah baby.

It was only when I uttered the immortal words ‘I’ll take them’ that the snooty assistant seemed to thaw. Very soon I was skipping back up King’s Road suddenly feeling a lot less hung over and sweaty. To celebrate parting with an inordinate amount of money for some bits of leather we popped in to The Cadogan Arms on King’s Road to partake in their finest burger. We utilised four seats; me, my husband, Mel and the shoes.

I have a number of memorable moments wearing those Manolos. First outing was for the Parry wedding which I believe was a good night, can’t remember much of it to be honest though I do remember thinking how comfortable the shoes were even after three hours of dancing. Then there was the interview; I got the job and it was definitely down to the shoes, not how I interviewed on the day.

The last time I wore the Manolos was exactly 4 years ago at Fountains Abbey attending a wedding. It was about two weeks after the devastating floods in Yorkshire and I know that’s when I last wore them because I noticed the mud and grass still on the heels when I got them out yesterday to take the photo. Oooops.

Happy Anniversary for yesterday Mr & Mrs Shearer.

M-M-M-My Manolos

So what shoes are first up to tell my story? It’s probably going to have to be my first pair of Manolos which I admit, I’m not yet ready to sell. They are very personal as my lovely husband bought them from the commission fee from his first library music album. I remember going to the shop in London like it was just yesterday and opening the door to the smell of (sorry vegetarian friends) leather…..maybe I’m not into shoes after all but have a leather fetish….just a thought. Anyway, as I remember the evening before had been spent with our friend Mel who we hadn’t seen for a while so there was the usual level of London fuelled inebriation and a late night well into the wee hours. The morning after I felt charming…..perfect for shopping for a pair of shoes that would set me back a mortgage payment.
Off we trotted across London before realising half The Tube wasn’t working. So picture this, it’s a hot summer’s day, we’re all nursing a hangover and we have to walk about 2 miles. For me, the word 'minging' comes to mind.
The look on the shop assistant’s face when I rang the door-bell (yes you have to ring the bell to gain access to the premises) was priceless. You know that bit in Pretty Woman where the assistant thinks Julia Roberts is a hooker without money? Yeah…..a bit like that.