By lunchtime we’d accomplished precisely nothing in terms of our official mission but I was already more than happy. You may recall my post some time ago worshipping a red handbag and funky chunky El Naturalista red nubuck Mary Janes – well these items came from Igam Ogam, (this Welsh phrase means zigzag in English), on Station Approach in Penarth. The selection was just as delicious as before including El Naturalista, Hush Puppies and Josef Seibel amongst others. So the pair of us donned our metaphorical swimsuits – me a flattering an encompassing one piece whilst my svelte companion resembles a Bond girl in a bikini with fish gutting knife on the hip – and we dived in headfirst!
The personal selection criteria rule out more than they rule in; on account of my still adjusting to the new limitations I am afforded a quiet moment where I silently and simultaneously sniff and stroke the beautiful shoes I shall never be able to wear again. It is a salutary experience which I confess was tinged with a smidgen of sadness but I know it’s not the end of the world! Don’t be shallow lady there are a million plus people in far worse position! Having tried on a range sensible boots meeting the criteria of block heels sufficiently wide/stable but not too flat – I have had fallen arches otherwise known as flat feet since I was a child – the then resolution being shoes with reinforced metal arches for which you could read ‘thou shalt be forced into hideous lace-up shoes which only come in black and your school chums will mock you for wearing them’!
The perfect pair of short boots was Josef Seibel and I fell utterly in love with the strawberry cum cranberry sorbet two tone leather-nubuck ones. Of course Igam Ogam only had my size in black – the assistant looked bemused as I struggled to get the boots on and then proceeded to stare at my feet for what must have seemed ages. I was wiggling my toes in an attempt to see if the boots fitted but of course I couldn’t really feel my feet inside the shoe hence the prolonged cogitation! At this point I put her out of her misery by telling her what was going on; she smiled and made herself busy elsewhere allowing me to commune with Mr Seibel’s creation as I took them on a little jaunt around the shop stopping briefly to admire them in the mirror!
We left without purchasing having been advised we could probably buy them on line; heavens when did I start behaving like a proper grown up? Gone are the days when I’d indulge myself with an impulse buy only getting home to find the item was the wrong size; that the leather gaped when my feet weren’t hot and I had to find an insole to make up the difference! At this point we were planning a visit into Cardiff with the aim of going to Buzz the spiritual home of the Dr Marten boot amongst other robust brands.
Of course by now we are leaving Penarth around 2.30 – 3 pm and I’m a bit buggered on account of having done rather a lot (for me) of walking. But fear not my gorgeous friend took the car keys and left me leaning against the shop doorway smoking a cigarette; I didn’t even need to ask she just offered! That’s what I call friendship – darling you’ll go to heaven as my granny used to say!
When we got back to the house we looked on line and found the pink boots in my size funnily in a shop in Diss (Norfolk). After briefly weighing up the merits of whether to place an order – for the last pair – or whether to wait until we went to Cardiff an order was placed. The order was made around 230 ish and Canyon/Kombi Palmira in burgundy/sangria arrived at 1040 am next morning; the efficiency of the British Postal Service still impresses me!