Mooning over Manolo

As you may have noticed I love talking about shoes. However, once in a while something turns up that just leaves me, well, speechless. Something like these Manolo Blahnik pumps. 

They were called in for a shoot by Katya Z. I mooned over them while waiting for hair and makeup and lighting tests and the stylist and the photographer and the Talent to be ready. The weather outside was frightful (still is, actually). But these lovelies put a smile on my face, a song in my heart, and a spring in my step. (Well, they would have if I hadn’t been wearing snow boots to the shoot that day.) ‘Nuff said. Enjoy.

I want candy

As I write, it is -2°C (28°F) and a wet morning in London. At New York Fashion Week the temperature is -3°C (26°F) and the catwalks predict a fall/winter 2012 season where black is the new black. Meanwhile, here in Moscow the sun is shining brightly – even blindingly – which would be lovely were it not for the fact that it is reflecting off fresh snow and the air temperature is -19°C (-2.6°F). Sigh.

At times like this one badly needs a hit of West Coast escapism. And it doesn’t get much more escapist than these candyfloss-pink-patent gold-heeled stilettos from the Sportmax s/s 2012 collection. 

My fellow shoe-fetishista Katya Z alerted me to the delights of the Sportmax stiletto a couple of weeks ago (stay tuned, you’ll see more of them soon). This particular pair was brightening up the office last week. They are a little bit LA, a little bit Miami Beach. They evoke visions of 1980s film noir – Kathleen Turner tormenting William Hurt in Body Heat, or Laura Dern being tormented by Nicholas Cage in Wild at Heart.

There is also this café au lait and black shiny ankle-strap version (below), which is a bit more Faye Dunaway in Eyes of Laura Mars.

Image thanks to motilo.com

Shell games

When it comes to shoe shopping, I am a romantic. I fall in love first and do background checks later. This means I have a bad habit of investing in fab footwear in the heat of the moment, only to remember – too late – that there are already half a dozen similar items back in the shoe closet. So nowadays when hitting the sales I carry a mental checklist of shoe styles to steer clear of. These include:

• leopard/zebra/dalmatian/tiger prints. All too easy to overindulge, especially in the last few seasons when they’ve been all over the high street like a scene from The Beasts Are On The Streets. With animal print a little goes a long way (especially if it’s blue*);
• python and ostrich. Fake python or ostrich skin never looks as good as, say, mock-croc, while the real thing is a bit queasy-making unless done in moderation;
• anything yellow. My wardrobe already contains far more lemon/canary/primrose than any sensible Celtic-complexioned person ought to have.

The corollary, of course, is the list of Shoe Types One Can Never have Too Many Of. For instance:

• anything red, especially anything red and pointy;
• anything gold;
• anything tortoiseshell.

Tortoiseshell is rarely a problem because, generally speaking, there’s not that much of it about. This stunning pair of tortoiseshell patent “Fever” stilettos by Stuart Weitzman is a perennial classic (also available in other colours and finishes.) The tortoiseshell version featured in the September 2011 issue of US Harper’s Bazaar, which made me do a double-take as I’ve had mine for years.

Sad to say, even thgough I adore my “Fever”s they are the most uncomfortable shoes I own, bar none. They are so spectacularly narrow and high that putting them on is like squeezing your toes into a nutcracker. (Their popularity makes one wonder if the practice of foot-binding is more widespread than one might have imagined.)

Happily, there are no comfort issues with my latest acquisitions. Jonathan Kelsey has designed some of the most gorgeous tortoiseshell shoes of recent seasons, and, better still, he has collaborated with the UK department store Debenhams to make a super-affordable line. These shoe-boots (below) have 4-inch (10cm) heels, gold soles, and mushroom suede uppers. Patent tortoiseshell wraps around from toe to heel. They look good, and they feel great.

*Below, blue zebra-print heels by Balenciaga, as blogged by Anna Dello Russo in November 2011. Click here to see blue zebra-print heels blogged by me in July 2010.

(Cross) country life

“I have a pair of shoes for you,” said my friend Konstantin. “I found them at the dacha during the summer.” 

Kostya, like most of my friends, knows I have a wee bit of an obsessionette with footwear, so I was very excited to see what he’d unearthed. But I must confess I was puzzled by these. They’re beautifully made black leather lace-ups, in great condition. At the toe, the sole is composed of four layers of leather, stitched as well as glued, and longer than the shoe itself by about a centimeter. 

Inside, they are hand-lined with leather insoles, again stitched and glued. The outer soles (leather) are nailed on, with various little stamps from an awl. They are marked size “41” and “3” and there is no brand, so they are hand-made (and/or state-issue.) 

What most mystified me was their heels, which are triangular, and attached with a dozen nails. 

Of course, any Russian – and probably any winter sports enthusiast – will have instantly identified these: they are cross-country ski boots. The extended sole in front is for slotting into a ski, and if I understand the principle correctly the triangular heel allows for easier level and uphill travel. And the leather soles would be for smooth schussing across the snowy plains. I think.

Whatever. The temperature today is -16°C, with a wind chill of -20° and plenty of light, powdery snow. Perfect conditions for testing a pair of vintage ski boots, so your Shoeblogger laces them on and steps confidently onto the balcony. (You didn’t think I’d actually try cross-country skiing, did you?)

The boots feel quite comfortable, and while my fingers and camera rapidly start to freeze up, my tootsies are quite happy. Only problem is when I actually try to take a few steps in them and realise that smooth leather soles and an icy balcony eight floors up are a sure route to disaster. I skid around for a few minutes (hardly panicking at all) and then retreat back indoors. Whew. Great shoes, but I don’t think I’ll be swopping my lug-soled Canadian snow boots for them just the same.

Black velvet (if you please)

If there is one thing nicer than a long lunch with an old friend, it is a long lunch with an old friend combined with some serious shoe shopping. Last time Sadia and I had done any proper shopping together was in Berlin, where she totally failed to stop me maxing my credit card on a pair of Armani pony skin mules (read all about it here). That was ages ago. This time round we were having lunch at
Le Gavroche, which has a three-month waiting list. Sadia, being an exceptionally organised gal, had booked our table even before I’d booked my flight to London for Christmas. Lunch was worth the three-month wait. They pretty much had to kick us out late afternoon.With our waistlines expanded and our wallets shrunk we meandered up to the Selfridges Shoe Galleries.

Now, I have to say that I don’t think the sales in London this month were all that. So far, the best thing I’d scored was a bath mat (it’s a great bath mat, but still). So I wasn’t holding out major hopes as we trailed around tables groaning under the weight of unwanted Kurt Geiger purple suede wedge sandals and un-discounted Christian Louboutin everything. Until – that moment. When I spotted – them.

All shoe lovers know that moment, when you first catch sight of Them across a loud department store or hushed boutique. The moment when your gaze falls on a pair of shoes that call your name, that say, “You’re the one that I’ve been waiting for. Take me. Now.”

My latest crush is a pair of Alexander Wang “Hannah” black velvet loafer boots.  They have a 6-inch heel and a stretch-velvet “shaft” (I’m not making it up – that’s what it says on the website). They look like something a particularly cool 1970s babysitter would wear. They cost six hundred and fif – whoa! Even Sadia couldn’t make me spend that much in the sales. These were reduced. Way reduced. Cheaper than lunch at Le Gavroche. And very, very tasty.