The Italian Job

I was going to jot down some musings about Alain de Botton's book The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work, but I think I'll stick to frivolity for today and post that another day ...

I bought a copy of Australian Vogue this week. As always, it was horribly disappointing. On the cover - 'The Lowdown - The New Mid Heel'. Inside? The usual four paragraphs of dross, including the helpful advice that if one is going to wear the 'NEW' lower heel, one should wear much shorter dresses and skirts. I can only assume that if one is past the age of wishing to wear minis, one is assumed also to be past the age of wearing shoes or having any interest in them? Grrr.

Anyway, I wear flat shoes at least 60% of the time (except in winter, perhaps, when heeled knee-high boots are a bit of a uniform for me), regardless of what's acceptable to Vogue. I recently wore out a pair of the ubiquitous black ballet flats.

So on my way back from yoga class this morning (Phoebe in tow) I walked into this odd shop that sells discount Italian 'fashion', including shoes. All the women's shoes are size 37. Conveniently enough, so are my feet. So I got these.



Two pairs for less than half what my new Fluevogs (waiting, waiting ...) cost. My photos are terrible, but the lace-ups are chocolate brown rather than back. And ridiculously comfortable, despite the pointy toe (or maybe that's because my feet are actually that shape!).