I braved Oxford city centre on Saturday because I needed some flip-flops. This put me in a bad mood to begin with - flip-flop shopping definitely does not come under the fun female shoe shopping category. For a start, flip-flops really hurt me. I want to like them, I really do, but do they really, truly have to be such agony? I envy these laid-back types who stroll around in the beasts in midwinter, apparently oblivious to the excruciating agony of having a piece of material wedged between their toes, like a fat kid forcing a divorce between two things that really should not be separated.
Until now flip-flops came in two categories as far as I was concerned:
1. Foamy, sporty ones that only suit the most laid-back of people and get a nice brown footprint moulded into them, accompanied by a rather hippyish smell...
2. Pretty but oh-so-flimsy beaded beauties, which come with the warning that they are for occasional use only. Not much you can do when a strap snaps: as they say, there ain't no flop without a flip.
(3. Alternative sandals: either high-heeled fashion items that can't get wet, see mud or be worn if anyone can see your grimaces, or 'practical' monstrosities that your mother would be proud of)
Bring back jelly shoes, I say. Glittery ones with that smell of childhood holidays.
Still, there is a happy ending. I eventually found some beauties in Free Spirit of all places. They're supremely comfortable, with a silky slip of fabric gently caressing my toes and some pretty flowers. They have truly enlightened me. And now the weather's decided it's winter again. Typical. I've resorted to wearing socks in bed again. Oh well...
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