Why no shoes?

From Art.com

I ventured out into the wildes of Manchester city centre yesterday. It was a nice afternoon, the first that's lasted more than 4 hours in what feels like about 50 years. I'm not a big fan of the whole shopping experience. I find it tedious and wasteful and a massive test of patience. But I had some shopping to do for various birthdays, houswarmings and necessities.

Oddly, Market Street wasn't the usual blend of rudeness and shop worker malaise. People were helpful and with the sunny weather, in a decently good mood. In some cases, too good. (I'm talking to you chubby Chav on tram who's going to get SOOO STONED LIKE ON FRIDAY WITH HER LIKE PREGNANT FRIEND LIKE AND IS BEGGING MONEY OFF EVERYONE SHE KNOWS. Curb your damned enthusiasm. Also, quit the cigs sweetie, you sounded like you're about 40.)

I managed to get just about everything I need, except the damned necessities. The two things I'm searching for: a decent messenger bag and new sensible-yet-not-vile-shoes weren't forthcoming. There were massive creations of vinyl/leather/sheepskin with crazy handles and heels into accessory infinity. But a bag that looked nice and slung over my shoulder and a pair of shoes that wouldn't put me in line for an AOP bus pass or A&E, nada.

My eyes glazed over row after row of ballet pumps, 6 inch spikes, 3 inch stacked, slippery soled boots, sandals made of a sliver of wood and a strip of leather. All completely inappropriate for dashing across the city centre to a train station. And utterly, utterly useless for protecting from Manchester weather. In the small sections dedicated to women uninterested in back pain and ankle problems, there were the quintessential black shoe of hospitals. The kind of vile jet black creation I had as part of my uniform at Burgerville. They'd probably work. But god help me, I'm only 28. I'm not ready for that sentence to horrible sensible just yet.

The bags were just as crippling. Huge things that looked as though the leather had been beaten into shape and sprayed in gold paint. The handles barely looked good enough to hold a tiny bag, nevermind these monstrosities. If designers had their way, I would have walked out of the Arndale balancing on one tiny stilletto, lopsided like something out of Notre Dame.

I honestly think all this crippling fashion still says something about how women are portrayed and behave. You can't move in most of what's on the display shelves. Look for something waterproof, reasonably nice looking and maybe a bit stylish and you're absolutely out of luck. For now I've gone back to my old favorite, good old 1925Z complete with steel toe for protection from crowded public transport.