THE BLOG

I bought my first pair of “Ladies” boots when I was about 16 years old. They were hot Pink leather knee-high pull on boots, with a ruched, wrap over design running the full length along the outside edge of the boot. A slender three-inch heel completed the look and rendered them, as far as I was concerned at the time, probably the most beautiful footwear ever designed. They were pure 1980’s and I loved them. So great was my fondness for these boots, they survived a period of homelessness and several years where I was living out of a suitcase. Actually living out of a suitcase sounds more sophisticated than it actually was. The case was made out of cardboard and it was originally used to move Oranges from Spain. So I was living out of a used Fruit Box. In fact the boots were only fairly recently, and very reluctantly consigned to the bin whilst we were packing to emigrate six or so years ago. The material had started to disintegrate and it was time to let them go.

The boots were purchased from Dolcis, using what little cash I had left from my job at the time. The actual process of buying the boots was an operation worthy of a Special Forces mission, as an awkward, scruffy teenager, lacking confidence and with zero self-esteem, strolling into a reasonably smart Ladies Shoe shop to purchase some heels was a daunting task.

I first spotted the boots, or to be more accurate , the right boot, on a casual walk past the boutique. I had a finely honed technique for window shopping for my feminine wardrobe. It involved stealing glances through the windows whilst simultaneously appearing completely disinterested. Having an air of utter boredom whilst admiring the multitude of brightly coloured and fabulously attractive clothes and shoes to which I was biologically denied access to was heartbreaking, and to be honest, to a certain degree it still is.

The stunning pink boot was perched on a rack just outside the shop and before I could proceed I needed to ascertain its size. It took several hours of pacing around the block working on building the courage to complete the incredibly simple act of picking up the boot, checking the size and price before placing it carefully back on the rack. It was the perfect size, a UK 8 and almost certain to fit, it was also marked down in price.

Having withdrawn the cash from the Bank, and made sure I had the exact cash ready to hand over, I positioned myself further down the street so as to provide a clear view of the interior of the shop. I then waited until the ground floor  was completely devoid of customers. It took a while, but eventually the opportunity presented itself. Taking bold strides, I headed towards the shop, and without breaking step picked up the boot as I marched past the rack, and headed straight to the counter at the far end of the shop.

“I’ll take these please.” I said, handing the right boot to the pretty young girl behind the counter. Nervous does not adequately convey the terror I felt. I was running on adrenaline, my heart pounding, palms sweating, and visibly trembling. The prospect of being “challenged” as to why I wanted to buy a pair of size 8 Pink Boots producing a palpable and rising panic. A quick check around revealed my timing had been perfect, still no customers, and only one staff member, this was going well.

Scooping the cash out of my pocket and dumping it unceremoniously on the counter was not the nicest way to treat the sales girl, who then methodically counted the cash into the till whilst I tapped my feet and silently urged her to hurry up. The payment complete, she picked up the boot and headed through the door, that presumably took her to the Shoe Enthusiasts version of Aladdin’s cave.

I took the opportunity to let my gaze lazily wander around the shop. There were still no customers and I was able to enjoy a couple of minutes imagining myself, suitably dressed, uninhibited, and casually trying on the vast number of shoes that caught my eye.

The arrival back at the counter of the Dolcis shop assistant rapidly snapped me out of my aspirational day dream. She appeared to be oblivious to the roller coaster of terror and joy I was currently riding on, she was smiling broadly and holding the biggest shoe box I had ever seen in my life.

I had in my pre purchase planning envisaged a small anonymous carrier bag I could bundle under my arm once clear of the shop. Still smiling, the sales girl slid the box, that appeared to be large enough to use as a party venue, across the counter towards my trembling hands. “I hope she likes them !” said my new best friend, who had cleverly bought into my prepared back story of the boots being for a girlfriend, despite me not actually needing to say a word. Which is probably just as well, since my back story was never likely to be plausible given the complete absence of girlfriend, or girlfriend experience.

Winding the clock forwards to last week and still practicing the art of being mostly disinterested whilst gazing longingly through shop windows, I spotted another pair of boots in the window of my favourite shoe shop here in Australia. Thirty seconds prior to this moment I didn’t know these boots existed, but suddenly I wanted them badly. A quick check inside revealed that my size was available and in a moment mirroring the boots of 30 odd years ago, they were discounted. I grabbed a couple of photos of the boots on my smart phone, wandered round and looked at the rest of the shoes on display. After engaging in a little small talk with the lady running the shop I headed out to meet Jane.

Jane is of course no stranger to my enthusiasm for fashion. She looked at the photos, listened to my description, smiled sweetly, and said well try them on and if they fit, buy them……

Trying them on !!! What a revolutionary concept….For my entire life, every single pair of shoes, boots or item of female clothing that I have bought, has been purchased on blind faith. Sometimes, in fact, often, with devastating outcomes.

Figuring that this was a great step forwards and good way to start pushing myself to make progress in the outside world I reluctantly agreed. Trying the boots on is a really great idea.

I figured the decent thing to do was to contact the shop, and ask if they minded me trying the boots, which I did, through Facebook, avoiding any awkward phone calls.  Although I wasn’t convinced the clarity of my Facebook communications was as effective as it could have been, I appeared in principle to have a green light.

The plan was to visit the shop straight after the most recent round of blood tests, try the boots on, then convey them home proudly and triumphantly. With the blood tests complete, Jane and I set off to the shoe shop ready to tick another box. Upon entering the shop I was immediately confronted by a very challenging change in the circumstances. Behind the counter was a Man. Smart, bearded and most definitely Male. I was literally stunned, unable to proceed with my planned purchase and feeling very uncomfortable. We did end up buying Jane some rather lovely shoes, so not an entirely wasted trip. I left the shop deflated, but with a desire to understand what I was so fearful of, and why I had been unable to tackle the very simple task of trying on some footwear.

After a few days of soul searching, I believe I have found the answer to the question. It is  SHAME…..

Shame it would appear is powerful, pervasive and capable of shutting me down, halting my progress and stopping me functioning completely. I’m living with Shame derived from Dogma. The result of someones bad thinking, a set of ideas installed in my head many years ago. Real Men don’t like Purple High Heeled boots. Real Men don’t like shopping for clothes and Real Men certainly don’t covet the stunning floral print maxi dress currently on the mannequin in the window of the Gucci shop in Perth.

As a result when dealing with Real Men, I am instantly confronted with my failings in this area. I am so far short of the ideological Real Man that was created in my head during my formative years, that the SHAME I experience is visceral, it destroys my confidence and leaves me stunned.

Shame is now sitting on the top of my to do list. It’s the next thing to fix. I’m going to take some bold steps towards overwriting the Dogma, and liberating myself from the associated shame. And as long as they fit, I’m going to take those steps in Purple High Heeled Boots….