The Glory of Ugly Shoes

It's getting towards Real Summer Time again so of course I'm noticing the way my jeans cling and the way my shoes rub more than usual as I'm looking through the big magnifying glass of steadily increasing temperature, but also I just went on holiday too, so I'm naturally thinking a lot about the endless wrestling match between style and comfort. I'm pleased to announce that I love ugly shoe.

These are my Skechers. My ugly beautiful children.

There's just something good about wearing the mildly ugly but intensely comfortable shoe of choice at any time while going outside. Shoes, after all, are the item of clothing most likely to become ugly spontaneously while being worn. Maybe this is partly because I wear work brogues to the woods at an alarming frequency because I am the fool who was transported directly from a Tumblr 2012 forest photoshoot of a girl carrying a satchel and wearing brogues, and inexplicably, cream (dangerous yet so cute) [editing note: I am talking about the colour cream, not the substance, to clarify]. Except really I'm a more gremlin-like and gurning version of that sweet, innocent, " maybe I'll make a lookbook.nu account" relic, but the point stands.

These brogues? Only Tesco's finest.

To be clear, I love my brogues - they're a soft and comfy shoe choice that works in the most professional and most casual situations, and the forest debris does clean off just fine, but there is the matter of having to constantly tie and untie your shoelaces. This is usually okay with me (I know, I'm so brave, so resilient), but it does get a bit old when you have to awkwardly do this at the door of your airbnb every day while your host presumably silently constructs a list of your hideous faults and one of those faults is probably your lack of swift shoe conjugation.

These are my spicy Primark boots - the most exuberant of all my shoes - and only a small section of the little metal studs have fallen off so far after a good year of use!

Moreover, being on holiday always makes this thing happen to my brain. Always the same smart thoughts, which are either "why did I bother trying to look nice when tbh I could've just worn Big Legging?" or "wow why didn't I at least make slightly more effort to look nice when tbh I could've Brushed My Hair?" The constant dilemma. Actually, I think I did pretty okay on this holiday, but this post is really much more about the aftermath a week later, when I found myself wearing a long, pleated navy skirt and some Skechers.

This is the kind of clear and beautiful image you can expect on this - my photography blog. My Skechers look really good here because you basically can't see them. Mmm, cute!

It's kind of a weird combo - the neat and cute but loose and unassuming skirt, and these cute little honkers on my feet - but listen, I have never been more comfortable in my life. I just live for these Skechers. They are sort of ugly in a cute way. There's something satisfying about them. This is the same way I feel about a lot of the sorts of outdoorsy outerwear gear that every single member of my family wears. Little comfy fleeces from some kind of camping shop. The ubiquitous walking shoes. And that's how I know that my love for the ugly cute comfy stuff must be genetic.

But also, y'know, it's just a sweater thing. Seeing all your friends in big comfy jumper? In a jumper with a hole in it? In a jumper that is clearly borrowed from someone, a little out of shape? Sometimes those things that are a little bit broken or dirty or ugly are just better, or they have their own beauty to them, or they're just comfy as hell. And that's why I respect the power of ugly shoes. Sort of.

I know that you come to this blog to enjoy multiple pictures of me holding shoes, so here you go. You're welcome.

I don't know, okay, just look at my Skechers and love them as I do. Thank you.