I bought these shoes and they fit amazing and feel comfortable and are made fabulously, but the yellowy brown snakeskin front was too pale for my colouring and gave me zombie feet. Not weeks dead zombie, more like newly infected, hours old zombie. Still, not the look I aim for in an otherwise awesome designer shoe.

What to do? I went to my art supplies (i.e. markers!).

Oddly, the original shoe is represented pretty accurately in the photo, but the coloured in shoe looks more yellow in the pics while they’re more pinkish in real life.

Yay for markers and staying within the lines!

I’m trying to decide what to do with a pair of shoes that aren’t quite working. They fit and are comfortable, but the colour is off. I bought them thinking they’d be tan and kind of caramelly, but after a year of never wearing them I see that they’re not tan enough and make my feet look kind of green. I could sell them, except I’m not sure anyone wants this colour. So I’m thinking about attacking them with a Sharpie and making them more of an art project.

I’m not sure if I have a white Sharpie but I do have some metallic pens that would do the trick. I suppose I could just go over them with a gold metallic.

The Princess prefers the left, as the blue is too boring to his eye. I like the faux stitching, but I think my preference is for one of the first two.

I picked up these 9West sandals online, and as with any online shopping experience, I accepted that they would look slightly different in person. I had hoped they would be either slightly more elegant, or slightly funkier than they seemed, of course neither proved to be accurate assumptions. They were a bit blah. They weren’t expensive, and they fit well, so a DIY was in order. I couldn’t think of anything I could do to make them more elegant, but making things bolder is always an option so…

The original shoe:

Plus neon orange nail polish:

Hooray!

I have, ahem, a LOT of shoes. A harem, really. Too many for one person to enjoy; a collection of beautiful things that are all mostly neglected and hidden from the world.

I thinned out the raggedy ones, and the pairs that I know I’m never going to wear (still haven’t consigned the last 5 designer stragglers), and I am still left with A LOT of shoes. And most of them never get worn. I haven’t performed an updated count post shed, but I’m pretty sure I could wear a different pair every day for at least 3 months without repeating. But instead I tend to reach for one of about 10 pairs. Well no more!

I’m taking a stand – or a sit down – whatever the situation demands – on behalf of neglected shoes! The members of my shoe harem will be equally attended to! They will all fulfill their purpose! I will wear a different pair every time I get dressed and not repeat until everyone has had some lovin’!

It seems I have found yet another way to procrastinate.

Alas.

I have a surprising attachment to my some of my shoes. Surprising because the attachment isn’t for the shoes I expected. I hate referring to my shoes as a collection, so I’ll say instead that I have a large selection of shoe offerings. Among them are of course a few favourites, and a few work horses, my attachment to those obvious. There have been a few cheap-o’s that I’ve bought and departed with easily when they either didn’t work or lost their appeal, and there are a few expensive pairs that I’d have no problem consigning if I felt I was no longer interested in them. The bizarre trouble spot is with the expensive designer shoes that I bought at an amazing price. I sorted through my shoes the other day and identified 5 pairs that either don’t fit the way I want or just don’t work for my style. The shoes are gorgeous and I liked them enough to buy them, thinking that ‘at that price it’s worth a try’ but now that they aren’t working out I can’t stand the idea of getting rid of them. With the price I picked them up for, I’ll actually make money if I consign them, but I don’t want to! I’ll never wear these shoes; they’re taking up precious real estate in my shoe storage, but I don’t want to part with them.

It’s the deal. I snagged them at such great prices that I can’t stand the idea of sending them on their way. I keep trying to figure out a way to make them work. They’re gorgeous shoes, so what if they don’t quite work with my wardrobe? They don’t fit? Add heel pads! Errrrrgh!!!

There’s probably a technical psychology word to describe this, but I’m determined to get over it before it gets to the point where I’m being diagnosed.