My enthusiasm for clearing out all my old stuff hasn’t abated yet. The other day, I dealt with my shoe collection.
Shoes are a weird thing. It’s often tempted to keep some hideously impractical pair of shoes because, well, I might need them! What if I get invited to an 18th century themed party and only that pair of shoes will do? Or, I really loved that pair of shoes and the fact that they are now beyond repair / cut my feet to ribbons doesn’t matter. Clearly, this is ridiculous.
I am a 38 year old woman and have now donated all the shoes that have a spike heel, are falling apart and / or were excruciating. I can’t wear heels – I have short, wide feet (rather like a duck) and high heels just don’t work for me. One bonus result is that my feet are more or less okay. My brother came round at the weekend and remarked on how non-mangled my feet are (I wasn’t wearing shoes).
An advantage of having done a show audit is that I’ve found some that need fixing at the cobbler. One pair of boots in particular need resoling and the insole replaced. God, I love those brown boots. But if they can’t be fixed then they need to go.