Monday, April 9, 2012

Photo Memory

The most expensive shoes my mother has ever had, were her wedding white scarpin. She had only 15 rubles (a unit of currency in the U.S.S.R), but shoes cost 35. So, my father had to work extra hours to buy them. He had to go to the military shop far away from city, where he could find goods from other countries. The wedding pair was from Austria and they matched perfectly with dress, designed and sewed by my mom. The heels were damaged after the big day and my mother even cried. My dad (oh, what a man!) repaired and painted them into creamy color. 

After I was born, my dad started his little shoe company. Shoes were not so fancy and elegant, but I remember our home was full of them. I loved to play with shoes more then with my dolls. 

{Only one wedding picture, where a little bit of shoes is seen} 

{My mother was a dancer for a long time}
{My mother and her university girlfriends} 

{Mom's best friend, 1979. The shirt is embroidered with little flowers}

{Dad waiting for a train}

{I know picture is bad quality, but here my mom is holding her favorite ankle boots}

Monday, April 2, 2012

Bridesmaid shoes

The story of navy pumps has started with "Will you be my bridesmaid?" from my best childhood friend. The date for wedding was settled on, the color for dress — picked up and I've started to search for a perfect pair. Do you know how hard is it to find your perfect bridesmaid shoes? They should be comfy for all night dancing and glamorous at the same time. They have to complete your look and speak for themselves. Most important, they shouldn't be "one occasion shoes", because, honestly, do you need to spend money for shoes, which you will wear only once? Now you know how hard my search was. But I find myself lucky enough to find a Steve Madden Haylow cuties. That gold mini zipper is just perfect detail, isn't it?


Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Matilda

My mother always calls me like that, when she thinks I've done something silly. If she knew that I had started this blog, she would say her ironic: 'You're little Matilda!' But I’m not a little girl anymore. I can decide what kind of shoes I want to wear for the date or to work. She can be proud, because a half of my salary I traditionally spend for another pair. The love for shoes is the kind of thing that I've inherited from her. 

So, welcome to my shoe box, dear readers! It’s a place where I keep my daylight.
{Beautiful illustration by Clare Owen}