Happy Feet

There's something about happy shoes.
That makes life just that little bit less...bleurgh.
Which is why everyone should have at least one pair. Or multiples.
It's like the ultimate pick-me-up. But better than coffee (I may take that back after my first cup of Seven Seeds today...but anyway...)

Like cute-as-a-button yellow Repettos.
The type that not-so-occasionally get stares that scream 'Good Lord, those shoes are loud...'
But do you really give a damn? Frankly my dear...absolutely not.
Nostalgic because it reminds me of carefree kindergarten paint days (where primary colours were du jour and grass-eating was the gourmet 'thing' of the week...) and a beloved (although somewhat cliched) yellow rain-smock...
Perfect for running around and making like Marina Lynchuk frolicking around the Arc de Triomphe to the sounds of Brigitte Bardot...

I'm getting too lost in the dream to care.
A dream of retro Left Bank crooners and getting messy with paint...

See...happy shoes...brilliant...

Give us a smile today my loves

xx

Bec

Unhealthy Obsession: Brogues Part II

Or perhaps I should have re-titled this: 'The Never-Ending Quest to Emulate Gainsbourg' (Either that or buy that kind of obscenely expensive Gainsbourg is God sweater from Net-A-Porter)

A rather hideous fellow who somehow oozed nonchalant sleazy sexiness, Left Bank artistic cool and is the very embodiment of the saying that French men achieve great things (and usually contract a venereal disease along the way). Words of the saying. Not mine. A twentieth century gentleman of leisure who married Jane Birkin (of the Birkin bag) and spawned Charlotte Gainsbourg (need I say more)

So inspired was I by my love affair with Serge & Jane (in honour of her...I do have a pair of much loved high waisted denim hotpants...if only I had her legs) that I inconveniently lugged around a box of Repetto Zizi richelieus all around L'Hexagone during my 'Oh you learned French in school...we should probably try going to the country now' trip. Being all patent, black and shiny and ridiculously comfy and soft (the genius of Gainsbourg is that the man knew how to rock a pair of girl's jazz shoes...although they are inspired by men's shoes...and now I'm just getting gender confused)...it was pure crazy l'amour at first sight. That's what Paris does to you.

Technically I should have bought them in white. But the practical penny pinching Asian in me figured I'd get more wear out of anything black and shiny. Then...the not-so-practical magpie in me then went and bought an even shinier pair a couple of years later...But they have gold! And they have a cut-out detail...which makes them different right? Right?

You can blame Gainsbourg for all this. And the unhealthy obsession while we're at it.

No seriously.

Love

xo

Bec