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I want a pair of chartreuse shoes. Where on earth do you find a pair of shoes that isn't just the right shade of chartreuse, but also the right style (30's/40's mary-jane or t-bar), shape (round toe, nicely shaped 3" heel, high instep, highish vamp) and material - patent, maybe?
You don't, right?
I've googled a bit, and checked out all my usual shoe-drooling haunts, but I think the only way it will ever happen is if I somehow contrive to get around 10 000 Swedish crowns that I don't have anything better to do with, and get the perfect pair of chartreuse shoes made to measure at the fantastic cobblers in Old Town who do that kind of thing. (Skomakeri Framåt, for anyone who happens to be in need of a great cobbler in Stockholm - they do repairs too, far better than most, but not more expensive; and these people love shoes, far more than I do. Highly recommended.)
Meanwhile, I'll have to settle for scraps of the perfect charteuse silk, the perfect chartreuse faceted glass beads and the perfect chartreuse eyeshadow. I could have a pair covered in fabric, I suppose, or have a go at it myself, but fabric-covered shoes tend to look so bridal. Also, I think I'd make them dirty and scruffy just by looking at them, let alone dancing in them.
People keep bugging me about all the black. This is what comes of it - one of the reasons I wear mostly black is, quite honestly, that my sense of colour is, well, excentric, and that's me putting it very nicely to spare my own feelings. I have a skirt in this fabric (it's a Liberty's wool crêpe, hand-me-down from my grandma who had had it lying around in a drawer for years, so the quality is fantastic, too) and I love it, crazy colour scheme and everything. I only have good taste in anything approaching the conventional sense if left in peace worrying about matching my blacks. If not, I go for dirty pastels, migraine-inducing patterns and mucus greens. Really, you're all better off with the matching blacks.
You don't, right?
I've googled a bit, and checked out all my usual shoe-drooling haunts, but I think the only way it will ever happen is if I somehow contrive to get around 10 000 Swedish crowns that I don't have anything better to do with, and get the perfect pair of chartreuse shoes made to measure at the fantastic cobblers in Old Town who do that kind of thing. (Skomakeri Framåt, for anyone who happens to be in need of a great cobbler in Stockholm - they do repairs too, far better than most, but not more expensive; and these people love shoes, far more than I do. Highly recommended.)
Meanwhile, I'll have to settle for scraps of the perfect charteuse silk, the perfect chartreuse faceted glass beads and the perfect chartreuse eyeshadow. I could have a pair covered in fabric, I suppose, or have a go at it myself, but fabric-covered shoes tend to look so bridal. Also, I think I'd make them dirty and scruffy just by looking at them, let alone dancing in them.
People keep bugging me about all the black. This is what comes of it - one of the reasons I wear mostly black is, quite honestly, that my sense of colour is, well, excentric, and that's me putting it very nicely to spare my own feelings. I have a skirt in this fabric (it's a Liberty's wool crêpe, hand-me-down from my grandma who had had it lying around in a drawer for years, so the quality is fantastic, too) and I love it, crazy colour scheme and everything. I only have good taste in anything approaching the conventional sense if left in peace worrying about matching my blacks. If not, I go for dirty pastels, migraine-inducing patterns and mucus greens. Really, you're all better off with the matching blacks.
