Like all tales of love, I feel it is only fair to start from the beginning, and tell the tale of how our love affair began. On a Winter sojourn to New York City, in a time not too long ago, I was struggling to find chic shoes to wear while traipsing up and down the icy streets of Manhattan. As I refused to don the contrived uniform of a duck-down parka and snow boots in such a climate, the outlook was bleak. That was until I plucked the most perfect pair of golen-hued brogues from the obscurity of the Forever 21 sale table. These were humble brogues, not pretentious, yet kind to my feet and tough enough to stave off the advances of the cold and snow. We bonded over the course of my American adventure, and developed a deep affinity for each other. Alas, the soles of these poor little brogues eventually wore out, and we had to part ways...but I will forever have the memories of the joyous days we spent together swanning up and down 5th Avenue, skipping through Central Park, and strolling through the front doors of the Plaza Hotel.
Cut to the present day, and my love of brogues has intensified. I have never found a single pair that I have adore as much as those that fate brought to me in that bleak NYC Winter. Instead, 5 pairs presently occupy my wardrobe. While they do not need to prevent my feet from freezing, they succeed in making my jeans appear chic and polished, add a somewhat alternative vibe to a pretty summer dress, and generally adding a hint of much-needed androgyny to my predominantly bright, glitzy wardrobe.
So, I would like to thank my much-loved brogues for all they do for me. I'm sure our love affair will transcend the (style) seasons, and that we have a long and happy future ahead of us.
Kat xx
Ps. The previous count was inaccurate. I now own 6 pairs of brogues, counting these little cuties I picked up today. Aren't they just precious?
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