July 1, 2009
The other day my shoe rack collapsed. It had been a long time coming. The carpenter had done a mighty dirty job and pretty much destroyed my walls, as you may remember.
However, when my shoe rack collapsed – in the middle of the night otherwise really what is the point, I thought: do I really need these shoes in India?
Are they practical?
Not at all.
But my dear that’s not the point.
You see, I go by the thought that there is no such thing as practicality. There is beauty, and the lack thereof. Practicality is for cars, or kitchen ustensils. Not clothing. Not books, not art, not music.
As a result, although I live in Jaipur, I still buy my shoes according to their sex-appeal. Not their resistance to dirt, sand and monsoon showers. Contrarily to what is held by many as common sense, shoes are not meant to walk in. Sorry to break the news. If they are too high, just deal with it.
That’s what I thought, looking at my crashed shoes. I really don’t need all of these. But what exactly do we need? So little.
We don’t need to go to museums, we don’t need to read books, we don’t need to wear cashmere and to walk perched on zipped leather stilettos.
I got out in the merciless heat of the pre-monsoon and I realized, really, all you need in India is a pair of Havaianas and a pair of Uggs.
How really, really boring.
Remind me to get a new shoe rack.