It's all about Me...

For the twenty years that I have ‘graced’ (some people may question that word choice) this earth, the amount of time that I have so far spent in education is unavoidable. Before you switch off, I do realise there are few that will be suitably regaled by my sociolinguistic analysis of The Devil Wears Prada. It’s safe to say that my current location isn’t exactly the hub of the UK. “Fashion” and “Loughborough University” aren’t two complimentary concepts along the catwalk of people’s imaginations. There’s a reason we don’t see “New York, Paris, Loughborough” on the pages of the latest glossy. Unfortunately it’s more about fancy dress and trackie b’s. A sleepy midlands market town that (begrudgingly) awoke one day to an invasion of students, Socialite Central it certainly ain’t. Despite this current lack of immediate fashion inspiration, it dawned on me that my life could be rather interestingly defined by…Shoes. Aside from stating the obvious (show me a person that leads a life sans chaussures), there’s more to this than first thought would presume. Join me as I delve into my shoe-punctuated little life…
I feel something every time I pick up the tiny cream satin ballet shoes that I wore as my auntie’s bridesmaid. Being only two years old I don’t remember the day, but apparently I shocked many-a-guest by talking so much at such a young age. Clearly starting as I meant to go on, this occasion for me marks the beginnings of who I am now. Put simply, there’s more to me than meets the eye. Which I guess makes that sentence a paradox. The fact that speaking, writing and communicating are now what I live for makes this particular pair of shoes quite special.
Tammy Girl. I know, I cringe at it now but aged ten, it was heaven. It’s also the source of my first pair of heels, which I now recall as the ugliest, chunkiest things ever invented – Christian Louboutin has nothing to worry about. But, having always gravitated towards people who were older than me, these heels were very important. The girls around me had everything that I was yet to possess – namely a bust. But in my chunky rubber heels, I was ‘trendy’. Shudder.
School memories make me giggle. This wide-eyed, innocent eleven year-old (thankfully) quickly ditched her Play-It-Safe Uber-Horrific Kickers. You were nobody if your excessively high heels weren’t from Faith. Then suddenly it was all about loafers…the girls descended four inches as we opted for the shoe of the moment, and the teachers breathed a sigh of relief. Ironically my loafers gave me more pain than my heels ever did. Added to the pain of trying to figure out whether James from 11E thought you were hot, us girls had it tough!
I got the job at Schuh three days after I started college, and three days before I had my offensive braces removed - not the desired accessory of choice. Suddenly, at sixteen, I was ready for the world. My wages frequently went back into the company as my shoe obsession grew. Schuh for me marks the start of my adult life, a job that I held on to with relish until I left for university. I loved Schuh. The other part-time staff were all in the year above me at college, and they were my ticket to a new social scene. A whirlwind two years that I still consider to be the best of my life so far.
At university, flip-flops are for some reason accepted as suitable footwear 365 days a year. Complete this stunning look with compulsory university hoodie and a battered pair of Primark joggers and you’re good to go. N.B: I bypassed this look. NOT desirable attire in a public setting, even if you are still drunk from the night before. Three more months until I step out of this bubble, and one thing’s for sure – there won’t be flip-flops on my feet.