... And breathe

I can't get enough of brogues. They look good with a 1950s full skirt, a pair of skinny jeans, printed harem pants and micro mini shorts. You can wear them with black opaques and white stripy ankle socks (just not at the same time). And they get you around London. How many shoes can say that? (Yes, florescent leather/cork wedges, I'm talking to you). They're the ultimate wardrobe staple and they're timeless, so having a collection of them is like having a well-loved pile of worn and torn hardbacks on your bookshelf - each one tells a different story.

On my shelf at present: the Office pair that look like they belong to Mr Silly, but actually belong to Fearne Cotton (and as a result I couldn't wear for a few months), the battered and bruised brogues of a dead man (see previous post, Dead Man's Shoes for the full story) and my beloved designed-by-my-own-fair-hand-in-Vietnam pair. 

Summertime, though, (sorry brogues) poses obvious problems. Bare legs come out and feet need to breathe. On Saturday, I found the ultimate solution in TopShop. Arise, the summer brogue!

I should probably add here that I hate baring my feet. I have toes so freaky my first boyfriend called them finger toes (yep, they're long like fingers, creepy). I really dislike having them on show and as a result I've never found a pair of sandals I've felt completely comfortable in. All year round I hide them in my brogues and this summer, long may it continue.