Image © Fairysteps
“The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money.
Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles.
But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that’d still be keeping his feet dry in ten years’ time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet.
This was the Captain Samuel Vimes ‘Boots’ theory of socioeconomic unfairness.”
Terry Pratchett, Men At Arms
Image © Conker Shoes
I used to be something of a shoe addict. As a child I had to wear Very Sensible shoes, but the moment I was freed from this tyranny I got myself a job in a shoe shop, and spent all my hard-earned cash (did I tell you about the time a toddler kicked me in the eye?) on buying ALL THE SHOES. This continued into my twenties, when I eventually stopped working in a shoe shop (and being kicked by toddlers, mostly), but carried on buying ALL THE SHOES. By the time I was in my thirties, I lived in a house with a dedicated Shoe Cupboard. I don’t think I ever counted them, but at the height of my shoe obsession I probably had something in the region of fifty pairs. A couple of them were very expensive. Most of them were very cheap, badly made, bought in sales, didn’t really fit properly, and certainly weren’t comfortable. Comfortable shoes were for losers! It was all about having the perfect pair to go with the perfect outfit.
After my first hip operation, I bought a pair of hiking trainers, and a pair of orthotics to go inside them. They were a revelation. I could walk! My back didn’t hurt! But wow, they were ugly. I did get rid of the majority of my ridiculously high-heeled shoes, but all I did was replace one addiction with another. I took to buying second-hand Dr Martens on Ebay, thinking that at least they were flat, and (mostly) comfortable. Soon I had a pair to match every outfit! And then the hip surgery came around again, on the other leg. My physiotherapist told me that Dr Martens, even with orthotics inside them, were the worst possible shoes I could wear. (But surely they were originally designed to be orthopaedic? What the heck?!) They were too stiff, offered insufficient support, and he convinced me to sell the lot. Heartbreaking.
Since then, having reached the conclusions that 1) I really like being able to walk, and 2) I don’t really fancy having any more hip surgery until they eventually have to be replaced, I made the decision to buy Only Sensible Shoes. An initial online search turned up mostly horrible ugly orthopaedic-looking things, which was a bit depressing. Thankfully I eventually stumbled upon the wonders that are Fairysteps and Conker Shoes!
I now have a grand total of fifteen pairs of shoes. A small collection for me, but by my husband’s standards, this is triple the number of shoes a person needs. (He has two pairs of army boots, two pairs of Converse, and a pair of casual Merrells that he never wears.) I’ve been gradually building up my collection until I have enough shoes and boots that will work with with most of my clothes, and the only gap remaining is a pair of summer sandals. I’m saving up, and I’m going to buy a gold and silver pair from Conker, if the weather’s ever warm again.
Once my collection’s complete, I effectively won’t need to buy shoes! Ever again!
Actually, I try not to think about that too much, because it makes me shiver a little bit. But the whole point of Conkers is that they can be completely re-soled once they wear out, and then they’ll be lovely and fresh and new again. They can also fix mistakes! My black and silver brogues were my first pair, and I ordered them one width fitting too tight, and with soles that I don’t find especially comfortable. But, when the time comes to have them repaired, I can have the uppers stretched, and the soles replaced with ones I like – without having to buy a whole new pair of shoes!
(Yes, I wear these to work. People take the mickey every damn time, but I wear them anyway.)
I’m not sure what to do about re-soling the Fairysteps collection – I don’t have a Proper Cobbler in my town any more, and I’m not completely convinced I can trust them to any old glue-a-rubber-heel-on shoe repairer on the high street. That’s a bridge I’m going to need to cross fairly soon, as the ones I wear most often are starting to get a little bit slippery as the treads wear away.
Anyway. What was I waffling on about?
Oh yes, I know.
At the end of the day, all of these shoes are really rather expensive.
Like Captain Vimes, I can’t afford them. The boots at the top were bought for me as a joint Christmas gift by my husband, parents and sister, and I chipped in a bit towards them too. But, I think they’re worth the money.
Each pair of these shoes and boots was made individually, by hand, by a single person. (Or a small team, in Conker’s case.) No factory, no thousands of identical pairs being pumped out only to end up in landfill when fashions change, so the impact on the planet in terms of both production and waste is much, much lower. And because they can be repaired, only the worn-out sole needs to be disposed of rather than the entire shoe, meaning less waste again.
The black & silver brogues were a colour combination that I chose, and Conker put together for me. I have a pair of Fairysteps boots that are turquoise with little brown birds on them, which are absolutely unique. Conker don’t make their derby boots with a brogue toecap – but when I emailed to ask them whether it was possible, they said yes. They also read my blog, spotted that my black & silver shoes were too tight, and recommended a wider fit when I bought the boots – a year later. How’s that for customer service?!
So yes, it can be very hard to reconcile spending a lot of money on a pair of shoes. Especially when you don’t have a great deal of money to spend in the first place. (Which, as someone who works part time, I definitely don’t!) But when you look at how long these boots are going to last, the kind of customer service that comes with them, and the greatly reduced impact on the planet thanks to opting out of mass production, the decision (to me, at least) seems a great deal easier.
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