Shoe Porn

All pics, Jakandjil

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Like the rebirth of the slow food movement, there has been a global shift in attitudes towards the craftsmanship of lovingly, slowly produced quality clothing items.

Enter Andrew McDonald, representative of the slow shoe movement on the Australasian front, crafter of fine footwear.

Based in William Street in Sydney, McDonald and his small skilled team produce a range of Ready To Wear footwear each year, allowing you to buy directly from their Paddington store or online. Their fame however comes from their made to order service, measuring your foot and working with you to create a shoe that fits you and your sense of style perfectly. With each pair taking up to 40 hours to make, these are the sort of shoes that will last a lifetime.

And not to worry, having designed shoes for Akira Isogawa and Pigs In Space, McDonald is very good at keeping up with current trends.

For more info visit www.andrewmcdonald.com.au. Portrait by Bob Barker

Gianni Barbato Update

I just found this shoe from Barbato's A/W09/10 collection on Imelda's website. Utterly fab. I haven't been this excited about shoes in a long time.

Will somebody please buy these?

By Gianni Barbato. Please excuse the teeny image, you simply must click to view the shoes up close. Skulls on the heels? Sensational.

Foot Love

Some extraordinary new footwear in quite different styles.


Fitting like a glove with the recent-past and current grunge trend, I feel like I need to throw a few key phrases around when looking at these Givenchy shoes: Grunge-chic, Slasher, Tough-Lady-Tough. Apparently these come in black too, but it's a refreshing change to see some white-toned toughness. (Look out for the white leather look next season - ladies, start painting your leather jackets white!)

Givenchy

What can I say about footwear so fine? Nothing, but sit back and admire their immense beauty and complete un-wearability. What art!

Galliano


These two ruffled lovelies, both from Christian Louboutin bring back wonderful memories of Prada Fall/Winter 08 footwear. The concept of leather frills is very exciting, and it's great to see somebody else having a go at this trend - it's clearly got a bit of life in it yet. I can easily picture the snakeskin sandal being worn poolside chic with perfectly pedicured toesies. It could just as comfortably be thrown together with acid brights than with the plethora of tan/beige hues we are currently spotting on the catwalks. The mary jane gold and silver creations are stand alone beauties. I can't bear to think of putting anything with them but a body con short black dress and a great pair of legs - voila!

Christian Louboutin

Christian Louboutin

We Love

Introducing Alexander Wang and his first shoe collection. These booties are sexy as sin and tough as nails. Just what we need to take us into the bracing winter - wear them now with the shortest of shorts and skirts, and then layer up the scarves and pull on the woolen tights when the weather packs in.

Bloody Heel! (the end)

It was a relief to climb into my chucks the next morning, and I kicked about the day quite happily. This week of practice seems to have paid off though, because by nightfall I was getting withdrawal symptoms from the heel, and had a sudden urge to put a pair on to go to my social engagement that night.

Two weeks on, I am proud to say that I have happily incorporated high heels into my everyday life, slipping into them most evenings and at least a few days a week. I have even managed to wear in all of my previously unworn shoes. Now that’s an achievement.

Bloody Heel! (day 7)

DAY 7

It’s the last day already, and despite the injuries I acquired, I’m rather sad to see my week in heels come to an end. I must go out with a bang on my final day, but as I am playing with children again today I choose a “sensible” orange Brazilian snakeskin wedge (I am keeping away from spindly heels as I anticipate a park visit or three). It is put together with a leaf green silk dress and dark rinse denim (the chicken in me added the jeans. Damn.) A glorious day, chased down by an equally glorious night spent with an even more glorious man. The heels stayed on of course.

Bloody Heel! (day 6)

DAY 6

Sunday bloody Sunday. Still half asleep I stumble and re-stub my toe this morning on the corner of my desk. The red splodges on the carpet will be there for many years to come. I bandage up my feet the best I can and jam them into gold Karim Rashid for Melissa works of art that up until now have taken pride of place in the centre of my bookshelf, unworn. The shoes are a statement in themselves, so the rest of my outfit is simple, and simple to choose: black cigarette trousers, fake Chanel T, flannelette check farmer shirt and a tuxedo jacket.

I join a friend for a mad jaunt across town in search of pearl tea – a mysterious Asian concoction of flavoured milk, tea, tapioca pearls, and garnishes of sugary syrup. It is textural heaven. The rest of my day takes me through the Cuba/Newtown districts, where I manage to meld in successfully with the bohemians, and in comparison feel comfortably conservative…

A boozy picnic in the park follows, and I am thankful that I didn’t choose stilettos today; the thought of sinking into the ground at every step terrifies me. I imagine getting stuck and never making it out of the park, condemned to be frozen forever like a Greek statue, to be shat on by pigeons and grow lichen on my nose until I finally crumble away to dust. As it happens I make my way home safely bundled in the back of a Green Cab, and climb into bed with an environmental do-gooder grin plastered upon my face.

Bloody Heel! (day 5)

DAY 5

Bar the slightly tired balls, my feet seem to have righted themselves over the last 24 hours, and I can fit into closed toe shoes again. I wriggle into some thick heeled black ankle booties with glee and feel like I am walking on marshmallows – oh the comfort! A blissful day spent swanning about town, drinking coffee and catching up with friends. 8 hours on my feet and not a pinch, so feeling indestructible I accept offers of entertainment and go out. Another 8 hours later I fall into bed and sleep deep and painlessly.

Bloody Heel! (day 4)

DAY 4

My room is a bomb site. Shoes are strewn everywhere as I hunt for a pair that will be kind to my wounded feet. I finally find a pair that I can wear, though they are entirely inappropriate for the event of the day. Surely originating from the same family as the Perspex hooker heel, the items of offence on my feet today are reflective silver soled stilettos, with blue, aquamarine and white glossy straps. And the item in the diary today is entertaining children; two to be exact, girls aged 2 and 4.

I decide that the only way to make my appearance excusable is by hamming up my outfit to out-do the footwear. Thinking Carrie Bradshaw slash Angelina Ballerina, I rootle a voluminous tutu out of my dress-up box and slip it over blue jeans and a mad flower print singlet by Cybele. It painted a great picture - arriving at the family home on my red scooter, small dog in a pouch on my front, leather riding jacket, shiny heels and sprays of white tulle flying in the wind.

Bloody Heel! (day 3)

DAY 3

Oh the pain. I cannot see my feet for the multitude of band-aids swaddling them. Somehow the soles of my feet have developed blisters – I didn’t know it was possible. Thanks to my grossly stubbed little toe, my feet will not fit inside shoes today. Even slippers are a no-go. Time spent sleeping is legally heel free time so I stay in bed the entire day dozing. What a write-off. This is the time in my life that I need Hermione Grangers’ quick healing spell.

Bloody Heel! (day 2)

DAY 2

I had a dream last night about running a 30km marathon in high heels, and wake up feeling invincible. Choose 4 inch gladiator sandals with huge buckles, and bravely team them with thigh skimming floral mini, waist cinching fetish belt, and sack forming stripy grandpa top.

My entire day is devoted to shopping for someone else’s wardrobe. Walk 6 hours on asphalt and my calves are tired from being flexed all day. Apart from the legs, I was doing great until the crucial last hour of the shop, when the side of my foot decides to slide off in a circle of popped blister. Have to taxi to my dinner destination, as taking steps brings on yelps of agony.

7pm: God is watching. I remove my heels in the restaurant for 5 minutes reprieve and immediately stub my toe on the way to the bathroom. Blood everywhere, I have to grovel at the waitress for an embarrassingly large blue plaster. Cobalt blue is so Fall 2007.

Bloody Heel! (day 1)

DAY 1

Dilemma of what to wear. I stare at my rows of footwear with a lost expression. Choose tan MiuMiu inspired wedges with gold hardware (never been worn), then pull the lame card and play it safe with cuffed up dark denim, plain white T and my signature leather jacket. Look in the mirror, like what I see, but all the time kicking myself for being conservative. Oh well, I tell myself; it is early on a Tuesday and I have a whole week to be mad. Leaving the house I have a last minute stress about looking contrived, so dash back inside and swathe myself in a massive tie-dyed muslin scarf. Now I’m rock and roll.

Tottering down the road for my first coffee of the day, it takes a bit of practice to eradicate the giraffe-ish lope that goes with wearing high wedges. After some rehearsal down a back alley, problem solved. Solution? Tight tummy, long strides. I feel sure the eyes of everyone on the street are burning into me. The coffee is lovely, though my paranoia endured, and I get a few prolonged glances at my feet.

By lunchtime my feet are killing me, toes have been all but severed by the too tight top strap of my shoes. My lunch date scoffs; saying it serves me right for trying to break in new shoes on my first day of a week of heel wear.

End of the day. In the privacy of home I inspect my war wounds and discover three small blisters. I prepare myself a peppermint foot bath and sob into the hot water.

Bloody Heel!

Lordy Lordy, I own 15 pairs of heels. That’s 30 single heels, and 15 pairs I never wear. Plus the 3 pairs I bought on my recent 3 week holiday – that’s one pair for each week I was away.

I am in love with heels, and with the idea of wearing heels, but can never bring myself to actually leave the house in a pair. I have a mild phobia of looking too “done”. I gaze at casual heel wearers in awe, but I myself am always afraid of looking overdressed. But after unpacking the three latest purchases from my holiday luggage and discovering that I have no room for them to live - despite my entire bookshelf devoted to shoes – I decided that this silliness had better stop. For a while I excused my obsessive heel buying as “like buying a piece of art”, but 15 unworn pieces of art lying around is a bit ridiculous. Wearing my flats all the time is a bad habit, and wearing heels is a good habit. I just have to force myself out of my bad habit and into a good habit. My theory is that practice makes perfect.

Over the course of a few late hours and a few too many glasses of Riesling, I hatched what I thought at the time to be a cunning plan. I would endeavour to wear high heels for all of my waking hours for the next week - A: in order to get into a habit of wearing them more often, and B: in order to get some cost-per-wear out of my shoe collection. Up until now I’ve been practically losing money.

My week begins on Tuesday, as the post-unpacking from holiday brainwave struck late on Monday night. My only quandary is how to get around the dog-walking chore, as it is more like dog running, and ladies never run in high heels. The dog must be exercised, so if you will allow me a brief daily reprieve, I promise to make it up to you by spending an entire night until morning in my stilettos.

Good god! I'm in lust

Are you feeling the oonst oonst?

These beauties were unearthed when my flatmate was rifling through boxes from her past life. Costing more than a couple of hundred and worn only once, these would have been the cutting edge of style in 1998 - their date of purchase. Remember those days? The time of the dance party, 1998-2000, when every man and his dog were sodding off to London to earn big bucks and drop acid every weekend.

For those of us stuck back in little old NZ, the most we could do was buy the shoes, slip into our lycra cowl-neck dresses with strategic cutouts and dance in our bedrooms like it was 1999. Oonst oonst oonst...I'm blue Da Ba Dee Da Ba Dai...

The Boots

Guess by Marciano. I have been salivating over them since I found them online two nights ago. They are old news for the other side of the world so are all of $US126. The only struggle is getting them here from the USA - it will be tough, but I won't give up.

Try this tonight - socks and sandals

Socks and sandals - take your inspiration from Miu Miu. Drag this look right through to Autumn when your tootsies will need the warmth. And don't forget to show a bit of leg.

Here is my version.