Of Sneakers, Clouds and Silver Linings

photo the style bar 2010

On the last afternoon of my recent trip to Paris, I ventured out undeterred into the light Spring drizzle to the chic quartier of le Marais to claim my sneakers from that most quintessential of French casualwear brands, Bensimon (and to make the most of my visit with a quick stop at Esteban to pick up a packet of my favourite incense, Amber).

photo the style bar 2010

As I made my way down the cobbled streets juggling umbrella, hand luggage and camera, I reflected once again how being so utterly unencumbered by baggage (which by now, four days later, was back at the airport waiting for me to collect it that evening en route to Seville) meant that I was free to stroll about doing some last minute shopping, reconnaissance, and general enjoyment of the Parisian scenery, without the worry of where to leave my suitcase for the afternoon or how to lug it about with me like some gauche and hapless tourist.

photo the style bar 2010

The fact that my ballet flats (the only shoes I had with me, but a remarkably prescient choice as it turned out, proving once again that one’s arrival outfit is of paramount importance in case that ends up being all you have) were soaked through and had turned my feet black meant I could not try on the shoes before buying them.

Lucky for me then that I can report that Bensimon’s sizing is pleasingly standard, another stroke of luck I noted with some satisfaction not long afterwards as I paid the 50 centimos to enter the toilets of the Gare d’Austerlitz (not far from le Marais and a stop for the Orly airport train, hence the perfect spot to do a quick change into dry footwear and to freshen up with a quick spritz of Eau Dynamisante).

photo the style bar 2010

So, mission accomplished with remarkable ease, I boarded the train vowing to undertake a drastic style experiment the next time I go away: I will take the absolute least amount of luggage with me possible and prove that even the most practised of packers amongst us take more than we will ever need.

Can I really do it? We shall see. (But I had better start planning then, there is going to be an awful lot of culling to do)…

Happy (minimalist) styling!

Rubi

A Shoe-in

Having become a recent convert to a certain type of flat shoe popular in these parts, (Sneaking Around & Sneaking Around 2), I think it’s time I turned my attention to that most quintessential of Spanish shoes: the espadrille.

The espadrille is Catalan in origin, from the Pyrenees, which means it is from the region Catalonia of that includes Barcelona, and is also called an ‘espardenya’. Originally flat, they are made from canvas and have a coiled rope sole.

So I think this presents a perfectly good reason to partake of a long tradition, notwithstanding the fact that they are, in fact, shoes, and hence an essential summer wardrobe item. How could I not join the locals in owning a pair.

I have been eyeing them off for a few years now (there are a few espadrille shop-lined streets in Seville in the south), and now that summer is really on its way it’s time to get serious. There is, admittedly, a dizzying array of styles to choose from, from the super flat to a platform wedge, so this does make the decision a little more complicated.

For a modern take on the traditional, you really can’t go past Castañer. Whilst other brands may be making espadrille-inspired shoes – rope-wedged pumps and sling-backs are in every store on the high street right now (think H&M, Mango & Zara) – these guys have been making the real thing since 1927, and they really know their stuff.

More expensive than the others, they are however supremely comfortable and terribly well made, so you are getting good solid espadrille value. I had initially thought them a little ‘mumsy’, especially as they are mostly sold in the sorts of shoe shops frequented by middle-aged matrons in tree-lined shopping precints, but I have come to realise they are just one of those very grownup European shoe looks. That kind of sexy in an old-fashioned womanly Sophia Loren way. And if I can picture Penelope Cruz in a pair then I know I’m on the right track! I mean, how mumsy can a pair of black platform slingbacks with a black lacquered-rope wedge be?

Check out their website at http://www.castaner.com/; their homepage is a black & white video of a pair being made, and you can see the latest collections – men and women…

Then of course there is the other option – the traditional flat espadrille, perfect for summers spent messing about on boats and beaches in the Med. These are the kinds of shoes worn by men and women and always seem to feature in black and white photographs of summer holidays in the first half of the 20^th century – Picasso and Dali, two terribly famous – and famously terrible – Spaniards. Which I suspect is also part of the reason that I want to own some.

I spied a small shop on my recent travels about town that has a massive range of very authentic looking espadrilles. Naturally its location up a side street in the old quarter (Barri Gotíc) only made them seem more so. Turns out it is world-renowned for its hand-made espadrilles, and is where Señor Dali bought his pairs; so somehow I think this may be the place.

photo courtesy of www.espadrilles.ca

Of course I can now see that really I will be requiring two pairs: a flat pair in black or navy for casual outdoor-type activities, and a pair of heels for dressier occasions (like jeans and a white singlet top).

Which is fine by me: if you can’t make the choice to satisfy your practical or your frivolous side, I say indulge them both and make everybody happy!

Happy shoe shopping

Rubi

Sneaking Around

Trotted down the road into town this week to finally check out the results of the Mango-Victoria sneaker collaboration, which had me interested from the point of view that I desperately need a pair of ‘sensible’ flat shoes to get around in over the coming summer months, strolling the ten blocks down to the beach or walking about the barrio when I’m just going to the supermarket and not actually going out anywhere.

Now when I say flat I am not talking leather or rubber thongs, ballet flats, or sandals, but those other more elusive creatures, the stylish, casual, tennis-y kind of sports shoe.

Now in the back of my mind I have been looking for just the right kind of sneaker shoe for a few years now. When Lacoste came back into vogue I was momentarily excited as I was sure they would have something that would pass muster and be stylish enough to be a ‘sports’ shoe without being clunky or chunky or all aerodynamic and filled with blue gel.

And so they did, but I couldn’t justify the price when I considered the frequency with which I would be wearing them in downtown Sydney. Once a week if I was lucky, or maybe once a month? As I always, always get waylaid by far more enticing looking footwear I really have nothing that passes for what I fear I still rather traditionally refer to as a ‘sneaker’. But the truth is that the modern variety just doesn’t suit me and when all is said and done I can really only see myself in a pair of Bensimon-style lace-ups in an alluring shade of charcoal grey.

Alas I can’t find them in Barcelona without buying them online and being crucified both by the postage and the exchange rate, and so I am on a mission. So far the closest I think I have are some rather groovy looking marle grey numbers in a store down in Raval that are thankfully the right price, but despite this I have still stopped myself so far from even trying them on.

And what about the Mango-Victoria ones? They are pretty cute – in white, coral or a sort of mid to royal blue colour, no laces, just eyeholes and stretchy rubber where the laces would normally hold everything together. They felt comfy and quite suited to my light activity purposes (as regular readers will know, although I do walk an awful lot I prefer to do my real exercise by pounding on a wooden floor in my flamenco shoes).

photo courtesy of news.mango.com

The toes are a little on the neon white side, but that naturally will go a nice shade of city smog grey after a few wears. No, it wasn’t that, it was just that they were so…well…flat. Not exactly flattering. And I guess this is what always stops me and sends me off on a quick whip-around to see what else might be on offer.

Since landing in Spain I have been on the lookout for some really snazzy sneakers – they do flat and casual so well here after all – but in the end there are just so many other shoes that I would rather be wearing.

So far distractions have included – although it must be said that most of them do at least take inspiration from the humble sneaker and then cast a whole new fabulous and modern slant on them;

• Forinara rubber-wedged metallic silver or gold lace ups
• Tommy Hilfiger red white and blue stacked heel lace up sneakers
• Any number of brightly coloured espadrilles of varying heights and styles – ever since seeing a photograph of Salvador Dali reclining on a deckchair by the Med in a pair of flat black boating espadrilles I have come to see them in a whole new light
• Zara python-printed t-bar cork wedges. 

Needless to say the python prints came home with me for a party this weekend. The sneakers will have to wait until next week – or at least until I get to Paris and can buy some Bensimons in situ.

Happy Sneaking!

rubi

Soul Mates: Or How Every Shoe has a Silver Lining

None of us like being without our treasured possessions, whether they be constant companions or things that simply give us comfort knowing that they are there when we need them. But sometimes going without can have unexpected results…

Take my recent separation from my favourite pair of wedges. Faithful friends, guaranteed to make my legs look long and fabulous, and despite the fact that they are open-toed, yellow and have a floral heel, seem to go with everything I own and can be worn in almost any kind of weather (or so I keep pretending – check out Meet Rubi for a shot and you will see what I mean).

Now of course we all know that they are but one of many pairs of wedges in my wardrobe, and I have plenty of other summer shoes that I could wear in the interim. I don’t even wear them every day. But, like many items in our clothing family, they are one of those members that have special meaning and we come to count on them perhaps a little too much without always knowing it. Even when we realise how attached we have become we recklessly rejoice in having found the perfect item without a care for the day that it will surely reach its use by date, and the time will come to part.

I bought them 3 summers ago now, after many months of circling the designer shoe bays of a certain mid-city department store (some would argue that there is no other store), practicing remarkable restraint but deciding that when I was awarded an imminent pay rise I would treat myself. I even had an overseas trip in between where I vowed that if I did not find their equal I would return and make them mine.

Of course I did not find anything I loved as much and spent the entire journey home praying that they had not all been snapped up in the mid-season sale that had commenced in my absence. But they had not. Last pair, my size, 30% off. Bada bing. I didn’t get the pay rise but commiserated with the shoes of my dreams.

And so it was that I had been putting off having them re-heeled. I irrationally couldn’t contemplate being without them for the couple of days that it would take to give them to the appropriate shoemaker and make the trip back to pick them up. (No mere Mr Minit fix-it-on-the-spot would do for these treasures, they are Marc Jacobs for God’s sake! So they had to go to a trusted establishment of quality workmanship.)

But the time for repair was so long past I actually couldn’t wear them any longer for fear of damaging the fabric on the heels. The situation had become ridiculous. And so the morning came when I put them reluctantly but lovingly into their cloth shoe bag and took them off for rejuvenation.

Now what transpired is this: in their brief absence I fell back on my second favourite pair of wedges: grey brown lizard print with ankle strap, very neutral and, you guessed it, go with almost any outfit. I had spurned them for the better part of the last two seasons in favour of the newer model. But I have rediscovered the value of my other faithful friends of times past, and have been having enormous fun playing around with all the ways I can wear these forgotten friends.

In doing so I have learnt a valuable lesson. I am now resolved to rekindle my affections for more of my forgotten footwear, which not only reduces the need to buy new shoes but stops the wear and tear on the ones you love the most.

Until the next pair die and need replacing of course. Then the search begins anew…

Deja Shoe

We have all heard the theory that if you keep something in your wardrobe long enough it will eventually come back into fashion, and it is sometimes a little scary how often it does just that. Then there is the case where you are so used to your own style that sometimes you feel like you are starting to repeat yourself…

Popping into a Witchery store the other afternoon to pick up a lay by, my attention was drawn immediately to a pair of black patent sandals, with thick crossover straps and a chunky wooden heel. Right on the money for this season in other words, but with some longevity as well, and a lot easier on the purse than the Chloe pair I have been coveting for months now in David Jones in the hope that they may be reduced to a more reasonable price tag. Five short impulse shopping minutes later and I was smugly congratulating myself on such a fashion savvy find. Then suddenly I was gripped by a vivid flashback of a black crossover shoe. But where had this sudden image come from? A magazine, my mother’s dressing up box?

My first thought was to think hell, do I have this same shoe already in my wardrobe at home? Horrified by the thought that I might have so many pairs of shoes at home that I have lost track (a drawback of keeping shoes in boxes – you forget that some of them are there, especially if you are waiting for them to come back into fashion). Then I thought no, I must have had something like it 20 years ago…but which one?

It took me a full 10 minutes to work out that the crossover was on a pair of Kenneth Cole leather slides that I bought on a fabulous trip to Hong Kong 10 years ago to visit my sister. Great quality and fabulous at the time, but of course not right for now and currently languishing in a box for a happy day in the future when thick soled mules will return to favour.

Imagine my relief that it was not the same shoe. This was closely followed by faint alarm at how the fashion merry go round is getting faster if I can have two different versions of the same shoe in my wardrobe and I am only in my 30s. But I quickly assuaged any accompanying guilt that may have brought on by congratulating myself on the consistency of my style, and the fact that there really only are so many ways to design a shoe, so you are bound to double up a little on design from time to time.

And I have had a great time reminiscing about that holiday in Hong Kong, so what’s a little shoe fetish between friends?

Happy shoe shopping

Rubi