Of Combining Necessity and Frivolity

I read this article today, which claims that Heels are Out and Flats are In. Perhaps, perhaps, but although I like a pretty ballet pump as much as the next girl, I'm not sure that the trend for blockish, boyish loafers is one that I'll be following. I am, without a doubt, a heels girl, and wear them practically every day. Today, however, was an exception, for this was the day for breaking in The Walking Boots. I must admit that I've been putting this off ever since I bought them - wearing them at a secluded chalet I accept as a grim necessity, but wearing them around town is another thing entirely. But as we leave for France on Thursday evening, I realised that unless I want to spend next weekend hobbling around like an injured goat, the time, as they say, had come. As a consequence, I have spent today feeling rather as if I had a couple of car tyres strapped to my feet. I admit that The Boots coped admirably with the infamous cobbles around Radcliffe Square, and one might think that this would endear them to me, so often have I complained about the difficulties of crossing this little patch in my usual footwear. It did make me feel that I will no doubt be glad of them when skipping around the rocky mountaintops (can one skip in car tyres, I wonder?), but otherwise, all I felt was a perverse craving for my heels, despite their tempestuous relationship with the cobblestones. Call me masochistic if you will...

I felt so glum after a few hours clomping around like this that I decided to remind myself that I was still a girl by treating myself to a couple of feminine fripperies as far removed from The Boots as possible. I was given this beautiful bracelet by skirmishofwit as a birthday gift at the weekend...

... so how was I to resist when I slipped into Aspire and found these lovely earrings which will match it so well?

After cheering myself with this little purchase, I made my way to M&S to buy supplies for my evening meal, and while I was there I popped into the lingerie section where I picked up a delightful little set in pink and purple silk. I may have to confine my outer garb to The Boots and their ilk while I am at the chalet, following Sir W's advice here - taken from the 1600 essay 'Of Fantasticknesse':

'For Clothes, he that shunnes singularity (for from singularity comes eyther Disdaine, or Enuy), let his Attire be conformable to Custome, and change with Company.' 

But at least I can bask in the satisfaction of knowing that underneath, at least, frivolity reigns supreme!