I washed my shoe...

Wow, first post in the new blog! It has taken me ages to get to this point. It looked so nice and neat and clean all post-free, you know? Although I realised that it was also a bit useless waiting for an AMAZING and EPIC first post topic, since very rarely to things amazing and epic actually happen to me.

Instead, I thought I would share one of my most recent failures in life. I washed my shoe. My lovely, real leather, tan coloured brogue to be precise. I must have picked it up along with a mound of sheets I had just stripped off my bed and thrown it straight in the washing machine, where it enjoyed an extra spin cycle on 40 degrees before I discovered it crying and dishevelled inside a pillow case, wondering what it had done to make me hate it so.

I didn't cry. I'm very proud of this. It's only a shoe, after all. A beautiful, real leather, tan coloured brogue that I got from Topshop and was featured a week later in Heat magazine which made me feel all fashion-forward and stuff.

This is it now:The washed shoe is on the right, all shrivelled and dark and devoid of natural oils and suppleness and laces. On the left is the other one of the pair, the one that escaped the washing machine by virtue of being wedged firmly under my chest of drawers.

I'm now left with the dilemma of how to fix this problem. Clearly there is no helping the washed shoe. I borrowed some clear shoe polish from my flatmate and this appears to have made it marginally shinier. The colour has run a bit and leather is hard and the inside is manky, but at least it's shinier. I'm loathe to put the unscathed shoe in the washing machine to try and make them match, but secretly I like the shoe better darker and skankier. I can pretend it's vintage. I'm not just saying that to hide my inner shame at having washed a really nice shoe and totally ruined it.

Moral of this story is: put your shoes away rather than leaving them on the floor. Especially the nice ones. Or stop giving a shit about your shoes. You choose.