I got a bad bad habit. I stick shoes on my feet as though they were needles in my arm. My booty is shoesies, sweet reward for the constraints of conformity of having to attend a graduation ceremony at Imperial College, as a stage-hoppin’ lecturer, you’ll note Imperial is conveniently located to Brompton Cross and Knightsbridge.
Academic regalia, Ede & Ravenscroft
I slipped up looking for flats, and as ever came home with another pair of heels. What a tramline junkie. I hated the conformity of being instructed to wear a shirt to hook the gothic grad hood to, and then I fall victim as a stereotypical city dwelling chick, by being a shoe-whore. I’ve spent too much of my life trying to fit in. Just to earn money. I cannot wait to split to Spain and Ibiza soon. I will run around barefoot forever, but these new shoes are coming with us…
Shoes, Nicole Farhi. Shirt, Zara. Skirt, McQueen. Shades, Oliver Peoples
Later. I’m off to watch Wild Child