Just Call Me Imelda

Good evening everyone.  My name is Nicola.  And I am an addict.

A shoe addict.

This addiction reached fairly ridiculous heights this week, when in a single day I bought 7 pairs of shoes.  Most of which are highly impractical and aren't going to last more than 20 paces on the school run through the woods.

What was I thinking?

In all honesty, I don't think that the brain was completely engaged in any of the purchases, which happened rapidly in the space of approximately 75 minutes.  I certainly wasn't thinking, "What I desperately need, more than anything else on this planet, is 7 new pairs of 3 inch heels...to accompany the mountain of neglected and rarely worn 3 inch heels that I have stuffed in special shoe storage bags, under my bed."

Could it be that I was a millipede in a past life?  Does this explain the urge to own more shoes than I can possibly wear in this lifetime?

So I took it upon myself to photograph my new purchases - to illustrate quite clearly, to potential disbelievers, why these shoes were purchases of the Absolute Necessity variety.  Then I thought...hey, there's an extension on that great idea!  Why not photograph all the pairs of shoes that I have bought this year alone and OUT myself in spectacular fashion?  Reveal myself to the world as the frivolous shoe spendthrift that I truly am.

That was not a particularly easy feat.  First, there was the challenge of actually remembering, then finding all the shoes I have bought this year.  Second, there were so many of them that it took me a while to recover from the shortness of breath and dizziness that set in.  Once I'd had my little lie down, with a sweetened cup of tea and a couple of custard creams, I found I didn't actually have sufficient floor space in my bedroom to lay out all the shoes to photograph them.  Unthwarted in my mission, I did manage to fit them all onto my king size bed.

28 pairs of shoes.

In 6 months.

And I love and am deeply attached to every single pair of them.  No, really.  Even the pair of black sequin Converse that haven't made it into the photograph (because I had quite simply forgotten all about them until mere seconds ago and have absolutely no recollection to their whereabouts).

In my (slightly insane and desperate) defence, I will stand tall and say very loudly 23 PAIRS OF THESE SHOES WERE ON SALE, YOUR HONOUR!  In fact, many of them were half price...which means I have effectively only brought in the region of 17 pairs of shoes.  Quite a sensible, justifiable number of new shoes in the space of 6 months, I am sure you will agree.

When I was photographing the shoes (it took a little time, with all the breaks to breathe into the brown paper bag) it did occur to me that, whilst the money spent might not have stretched to a 5* holiday in Mauritius...it could possibly have afforded me a 4 day yoga treat.  In India.  Where I could have meditated all day, every day on the answer to why I innately believe that the hole in my heart can be successfully filled with shoes.  Ah well.  I am guessing that is a question that will remain unanswered, for the time being at least.

As for the timing of the purchases, well that couldn't have been more awkward.  Ex arrived in town last Wednesday and has commandeered my house till Monday.  (Yes, I can see that there is probably some Cause and Effect relationship here - these recent years of therapy have not been a complete waste of time and money I can assure you.)  I was therefore in a situation where I was still trying to smuggle the evidence of my purchases into the house, without his knowledge, yet again.

Why I couldn't just waltz brazenly in, swinging the bags containing multiple shoe boxes, I have no idea. I was tempted to parade my very own shoe fashion show during tea time, which surely would have garnered much appreciative applause, quickly followed by praise in my economic ability to 'save' myself £280 in shoes, in one day alone.   But no.  Instead I sneaked in while the house was empty and, quickly and quietly, shamefully hid all evidence.

It strikes me as a little odd that I am no longer married to the man, yet I am still participating in this little charade.  Funny how some habits (particularly the bad ones) are hard to shake.

Anyway, before I delight you with photographic evidence of my truly superficial and slightly unhinged addiction, I will just say this about shoes:

• Shoes are the easiest thing in the world to try on, because they do not require a changing room and the removal of several layers of clothes
• When you try on shoes, you are rarely in danger of horrifying yourself with close up images of your own dimpled bottom and/or thighs in a 3-way mirror
• If a shoe is too small, it doesn't provoke an emotional "God, I knew I shouldn't have eaten half the contents of the kid's treat tin!" reaction...you simply get the next size up
• Similarly, if a shoe makes your foot look less than attractive your brain very rarely asks the question "Does my foot look fat in this?"  It is purely an ugly bloody shoe and can be instantly cast aside