So here it is, the day we all dread/love/loath/eagerly await. (Please, for ease of writing, delete as appropriate ladies!)
So, before I delve into my fashion fixes of this month, let me take you back a few years, to Valentine’s of ’09. I was dressed up rather fittingly to just that, in a rather stylish LRD (the secondary staple of a wardrobe aside the LBD) from Karen Millen. It was a halter-neck, silk,floaty, fabulous. I looked, and, lets face it, suitably paid, a million dollars.
I paired it with a rather gorgeous pair of heels. Black, towering, stilettos. Against all my better judgement I may add, as for me they were simply not made for walking, more for tottering about in; with dire need of a Cosmo and a St. Valentine’s Miracle to keep me vertical.
I met my date, everything beginning rather swimmingly with a kiss on the cheek and the usual exchange of pleasantries. The charming young man had even bought me a rose. It wasn’t the most pleasant of weathers so he ushered me inside out of the wind and the rain, to the cosy and romantic evening that awaited. Except, it didn’t work quite like that.
I stepped inside, to a rather full eaterie, couples galore all toasting and eating by candlelight. Lovely. I took a step further, unbeknown to me, onto the cleanest, shiniest, smoothest of floors that has ever been known to mankind.
Now, imagine Cinderella in that classic scene – its midnight, the clock is chiming, she loses her shoe, ever so elegantly, sliding simply off her foot. Without a minute to waste, she looks back (I can only presume in sadness at the loss of such a beautiful shoe which cost her a small fortune), only to run off into the distance with Prince Charming looking on, in awe, lust and love.
Well, it wasn’t like that. At all.
I slipped, buckled, and landing face first into the restaurant reception.
Mortified didn’t even come close to describing it.
I managed to pick myself up, my cheeks now quite comfortably matching my dress, and headed to our table. With gasps and looks of equal pity and hilarity from the other diners. Not quite the romantic night I had in mind.
The rest of the night was a blur, mixed with apologies, and plots of revenge to carry out on the stiletto that had so drastically (and literally) let me down on my return home.
Flash back to nowadays, and I can safely say I have learnt from that fateful fashion faux pas. I opt for the flats, the chunky heel, the wedge.
So if like me, you just aren’t well suited to the skyscraper stiletto’s, or live in the cobbled streets of somewhere-by-sea, or just fancy that extra glass of something-something and know stability might not be on the cards in the latter stages of your soirée, I have compiled a selection of Spring/Summer Shoes that should hopefully leave you upright, up tall and upstanding for the entirety of your evening – whatever it is you should chose to do on this much anticipated/loved up/awful of occasions (you get the idea now).