Wedding Shoes

The kids are loving all the random things that are being uncovered now The Great Pack Up has begun.

Ida has discovered that I do own shoes that aren't just wellies or trainers (really, why would I need anything else in this country?) and has had a whale of a time teetering around in the very dusty, long forgotten heels from the back of the wardrobe.

Here she is in my wedding shoes. A pair of vintage-esque (when does something become vintage? They will be at least 15 years old by now so surely they must be doing a good job of being nearly vintage all on their own) silky kitten heel sling back numbers. I have no idea how to describe them.

She had them on for 30 seconds, did a little shimmy in them and then promptly clattered face first onto the floor, the shoes sticking out from her feet at 90 degree angles from her ankles.

And yes, it's fair of you to assume that almost the exact thing happened to me when I wore them on my wedding day. I'm just trying to remember if it was before or after the gravy covered brussel sprout bounced off my plate and landed right slap bang in the centre of my wedding dress. I'm fairly certain it was after.

Class and sophistication, Abigail. Class AND sophistication at all times.