The first time I ever travelled to Europe, I experienced a fashion dissonance so profound it changed my life. There, out in public, men, gay men, men I knew, men I consorted with, men who are purported to be the definers of good taste, were wearing dress shoes, classic black leather shoes with leather soles, with jeans. Dungarees. Denim. It was like capers on cheez-wiz, Grandmother's pearls with a tie-died t-shirt dress. It was very unsettling, and yet, somehow, appealing. It was as if they'd gotten their American fashion sensibility from watching Hollywood movies, and in movies, they never show feet, so they were left to fill in the gap.
Today I am wearing black Bostonian wingtips, 8.5 US wide. I have a predilection towards that brand because (a) they have wide widths, and (b) they have a very traditional, almost victorian style. It's hard to find proper leather-soled shoes anymore, that don't cost hundreds of dollars.
FABulous, dahlink, FABulous!
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