SHOE SLUTS.

what is it about women and their insatiable appetite for shoes?

A predilection, or rather, an addiction for appendages to wear on their feet, that is not diminished season after endless season. High Heels especially conjure up the greatest desire, but flats and even sneakers can cause great emotional turmoil, spiking up heart beats & heat flashes with an almost irrational need / want / can’t breathe till I have it sensation that is almost exclusively reserved for shoes.

Perhaps, it is not as irrational as it first seems. For you see, shoes do not judge you. They don’t care if you gain a kilo (or 3). They are democratically consistent. A size 37 stays that way whether you ate THAT burger or not. It is in fact one of the few items - like black - that actually makes you feel slimmer. I challenge any woman not to feel a little bit more fine n’feline in a pair of heels. It can’t be helped, they just make you stand differently - walk a little slower with more intention. The gaze - be it male or otherwise - will, inadvertently linger on.

Importantly, the right shoe will reveal a little of who you are. Or who you want to be. A suggestive Louboutin Pigalle stiletto for your more wanton self? Perhaps you’re feeling a little bit more avant guard and in need of a directional Tabi boot to stir shit up. Conversely you may just want to slip into a fur encased JW Anderson slide and call it a day. Either way, your shoe has a way of conveying these style nuances to the outer world, putting your best foot forward, without evening uttering a word.

A Balenciaga knife boot reads aristo punk on a stale Tuesday, whilst oldcéline ruched leather flats allude to an intellectually pragmatic vibe desperately needed for a challenging zoom call. Yes, we can channel a little bit of all that just by slipping on the right shoe. After all, a woman is nothing if not multi-faceted, full of pieces of her you’ve never seen.

One shoe therefore does not fit all. Nor does one shoe alone do justice for a woman’s varied and nuanced persona. Hence the need for the collection. Not a senseless, wayward addiction after all, but a justifiable curated connoisseurship of foot wear for its complex wearer. We may be shoe sluts at the end of the day, but you can certainly bet, we are are not that easy.