Kay Town
Andrew Kay puts his dancing shoes on
Well, you can knock me down, step in my face, slander my name all over the place. Do anything that you want to do, but uh-uh, honey, lay off of my shoes. Well maybe I don’t want you stepping on my face either.
I love my shoes, possibly too much. And I have far more pairs than is sensible when you live in a modest flat. Right now though I am celebrating the fact that I can wear them all once again.
“Frumpy was a place I had ended up in a few years back when I stopped caring about how I dressed”
The first half of January gave us some of the worst weather for some time. Snow had fallen, snow on snow. There I go quoting lyrics once again, or poetry then, set to music I should say this time. Anyway, the snow and ensuing slush and sheet ice reduced my choice of footwear from plenty to one. Yes I was down to one pair of sturdy walking boots.
I shouldn’t complain as they are good boots, comfy and waterproof, and apart from one memorable and wet tumble, they kept me upright through most of it. What I hated was that they are huge and look ridiculous with anything except jeans. I’m not a natural jeans wearer, I can slop around in them sure, but I feel better in something a bit smarter. But size eleven Timberlands look pretty silly with a Naples yellow and hyacinth blue checkered cashmere suit.
January became pretty casual sartorially and although I tried to dress things up a bit with bright scarves I ended up feeling rather frumpy for most of the time. Frumpy was a place I had ended up in a few years back when, for whatever reasons, I stopped caring about how I dressed and ended up with a drab wardrobe of cheap and less than cheerful clothes. I mean, how many plain grey and white t-shirts does a boy need?
Strangely my taste in shoes remained the same, and I have a penchant for bright coloured shoes. So despite my drab upper parts my feet remained encased in baby pink ones that make the ends of my legs look like pig’s trotters; bright orange Doctor Marten’s; pillar box red pointed toed boots…
That was then, now my wardrobe is changing again; out with dull and in with dazzling, and as for the shoes, well they all need a damned good polish, but once that is done who knows…
One thing I have learnt, compromise, while sometimes inevitable, is not always the solution. I’m not sure I consciously compromised the way I dressed and I am certain that I was not aware that I was doing it, but I did – I know I did because a good friend told me so. I must go now though, because after being left unused for a while, all of my shoes need a good clean and polish.
