Edel Coffey: Something liberating about the fact ugly, comfortable shoes are in fashion
The moment Carrie Bradshaw swapped her Manolos for Birkenstocks I got to thinking, does there come a time when we all hang up our Manolos in favour of comfort?
Has your fashion changed since the pandemic, your sense of clothing decorum? Do you approach an evening out wondering, could I get away with wearing leggings to this event? Have you found yourself ready to leave your house before noticing at the last minute that you’re still wearing your slippers?
I used to be one of those people who never left the house without full hair and make-up. Now I surprise people when I do wear make-up. They act amazed. You can see them thinking, she doesn’t brush up too badly when she makes an effort.
Likewise, there was a time when I didn’t even own a pair of runners. On another occasion, a friend guessed I was pregnant because I turned up to dinner wearing flat shoes. ‘What’s up with you?’ she said, casting a suspicious eye over my footwear.
But like many people, I got out of the habit of wearing make-up and fitted clothes and high heels during the pandemic and now I find I’m resistant, maybe even allergic to going back to those things that pinch and cinch and bunch and restrict. Comfort, it seems, is addictive, and it’s a habit that is dying hard.
But it turns out I’m not alone. If we are giving up on fashion, fashion is not quite ready to give up on us yet. In a fine example of if you can’t beat them, join them, there have been many high-profile collaborations between sophisticated fashion brands like Balenciaga and comfort-based footwear like Crocs and Birkenstocks.
Then Sarah Jessica Parker was recently photographed wearing a pair of Birkenstocks while filming the second series of And Just Like That.... My spirits soared. If they’re good enough for shoe afficionado Carrie Bradshaw, I thought … OK, so they are Gucci Birkenstocks but still, a cork-soled clog is a cork-soled clog. It felt like one of those watershed moments, like when Bob Dylan switched from acoustic to electric, the moment Carrie Bradshaw swapped her Manolos for Birkenstocks and I got to thinking, does there come a time when we all hang up our Manolos in favour of comfort?
There’s something very liberating about the fact that ugly, comfortable shoes are in fashion. You can choose them as your go-to, thinking you look just like that off-duty supermodel who owns the very same pair of Birkenstocks, when really you look like exactly what you are — a tired, middle-aged mother. But still, I’m glad for their moment in the sun, as it has given us all an extension on our fashion-hiatus.
I’ve been living in a pair of grey felted-wool Birkenstocks for the last few months. They look quite like slippers, and feel a bit like slippers too, but with the imprimatur of Ms Bradshaw I’ve been wearing them with brazen abandon. Even Rishi Sunak’s billionaire wife was recently seen doing the school run in her JW Anderson shearling slippers. Comfort comes for us all in the end.
Last week, things got stranger still. At dinner with a very glamorous, high-flying friend, I noticed she was wearing Birkenstocks too. She has an extensive collection of lethal-looking designer heels and yet here she was, in her leather clogs. Could I take this as yet more approval of my new ugly-shoe lifestyle choice? When I told her about my Birkenstock love, she confessed she owned four pairs. I wondered should I buy some dressy ones for going out?
The final nail in the coffin came when I bought an orthopaedic pair of runners. I’ve been battling with tendonitis in my ankles and instead of just accepting that I have dodgy ankles and can’t really run, I am convinced that the right shoe will cure the problem. I had a few minutes to kill before an event recently and serendipitously found myself outside a shoe shop that caters to people with all sorts of foot complaints. I took it as a sign.
Not a single concession is made to fashion in these shops. They are, in fact, termini of fashion, a place of fallen arches, torn Achilles’ tendons and ruptured cruciates. I found myself drawn in. I filled out an assessment, got my measurements taken and walked the line, after which the assistant praised me for my perfectly aligned feet and straight gait. You rarely see that, she said, with an impressed shake of her head. I bought a pair of runners anyway, with extra ankle support. They are comfortable but unfortunate-looking things. No colourful branding, no sexy air bubble, no luminous laces. Something about them just screams — I’ve given up. And maybe I have given up. Or maybe it’s all just a part of getting older.
Last week, I went for a walk along the seafront. I was strutting along at quite a pace, feeling the spring in my new orthopaedic runners when I noticed an elderly woman a bit ahead of me.
As I caught up with her, I noticed something familiar about her. It was her runners. She had the same pair as me. And I found myself thinking for the first time in months — maybe I will wear heels today. Pride, after all, feels no pain.
