I’m dreading the arrival of summer shoes – how will I fancy my man in Birkenstocks?
I regret to inform you that it’s nearly that time: the time when we have to think about summer shoes. Shoes that may reveal some, or really quite a startling amount of, foot. Shoes that we may wear without socks. Shoes that somehow carry us from morning to night without slowly poaching our toes. Shoes that won’t cause a passing child on the street to wince or start crying. The swifts will be here any minute, the smell of blackened chicken wing floats over the neighbour’s fence, and now we have to unfurl our feet from their winter casings, like evacuees being cut from their winter vests.
First, a news announcement. You may have noticed, or read, that boat shoes are having a comeback. Or “having a moment”, as they say in the fashion business. The return of the boat shoe feels as unlikely and retro as the return of Liz Truss to me, but Miu Miu’s spring/summer collection included a £660 pair, so they’ve been deemed fashionable again. Vogue has gone even further and declared 2024 “the year of the boat shoe”, which feels a bold claim given that several key democracies around the world are holding elections this year, but I admire the passion. Especially for a shoe that has more traditionally been slipped on by the country gentleman on a sunny Sunday morning to walk the Labrador to the local newsagent’s. This chap would also be wearing red shorts and perhaps a Panama. That’s the traditional home of the boat shoe.
But now we should all be wearing them, thanks to the influence of films such as Saltburn and the Netflix series The Gentleman, which are being fingered for the rise in popularity of preppy fashion, including boat shoes and rugby shirts. Next is flogging its for £38 if you can’t stretch to the Miu Miu ones.
It’s a great relief, this boat shoe news, because I’ve been worried for some time by the rise of the Birkenstock. My new-ish other half has already warned me about his. “I spend quite a bit of the summer wearing sandals,” Paul said cautiously, some months ago. “What kind of sandals?” I checked. “Birkenstocks,” he replied. One of the many reasons I fell for him was his impeccable dress sense – linen shirts, cable knit jerseys, leather biking boots, which he’s worn all winter. Will I fancy him in a pair of Birkenstocks? It remains to be seen, as he hasn’t whipped them out yet. But I can feel the moment approaching.
My friend Tom Chamberlin, the editor of dapper men’s magazine The Rake, begs to differ. “I know the rumour of the Birkenstock’s return is on everyone’s lips, but so is the return of the mullet and there are better haircuts,” he admonishes.
Rubber-soled espadrilles are preferable to the boat shoe, says Tom. I don’t even bother asking him about trainers, or whether Adidas Sambas are out since the Prime Minister wore them a few weeks ago, because I’ve never seen Tom in a pair of trainers. You can find perfectly splendid sandals, Tom adds, from the likes of Tod’s and Ralph Lauren.
Hmm. I don’t think we women have it much easier. Around this time of year, I find myself looking at women on the Tube, in their dainty sandals with their perfect toenails, and I wonder if I’ll ever be the sort of organised person who looks at the weather forecast in advance and adjusts her personal grooming regime accordingly? And can one really spend all day wandering the streets of London wearing Roman-esque sandals without lacerations? I often fall back on white plimsolls or espadrilles to hide my toes, but these can also become fairly unpleasant after a long day. Talcum powder, advises a friend, who says she carries it around with her everywhere at this time of year, to sprinkle in her shoes when they get too, er, sticky.
A couple of years ago, among pals, I braved the question of whether we could still wear heeled espadrille wedges in the summer, or if they’d become naff, and my goodness, the reaction. I might as well have said I preferred cats to dogs. Some were horrified, in other words, declaring them clumpy and unsexy. Others were more in favour. The best response of all came from a well-connected friend who’d been to a Royal wedding in a pair. “What’s great about espadrilles,” she told me, “is that you can curtsey in them. The base gives you support, so there’s less wobble when you go down.” Remember that if you’re off to a garden party or if the King asks you over for a barbecue.
Another alarming summer-shoe development is the rise in ugly sandals – chunky things with wide straps and a sole as thick as a hardback. When I was a teenager and my feet had grown faster than my body, my grandmother thoughtfully posted me a catalogue of wide-fitting shoes, of the orthopaedic sort you see in the back of magazines. Even they were more attractive than the fisherman sandals clumping around town now. It’s as if women, having been released from the pressure and shackle of ridiculous heels after several decades, want to wear deliberately workmanlike shoes. Fair enough, but is there no middle ground between the sort of shoe you might wear if you’d recently had a bunion operation and heels?
Let’s not even discuss Crocs. Although I will say that on a recent foray to New York I saw dozens of pairs on the subway. Coloured pairs. Camouflaged pairs. Bejewelled pairs. So those of us who are holding out on the Crocs front may soon become even more of a minority.
Ballet shoes are also perfectly fine this summer, others point out, again because preppy dressing is back. But since I have feet on the large size (42, if you must know, or a generous 8), I always feel a little fraudulent in ballet pumps – like a butcher pushing too much sausage meat into its skin. I used to buy pumps from a shop in Brixton for women with, ahem, slightly bigger feet. Guess what this shop was called? Genuinely, it was Elephant Feet, though it has long since closed down (little wonder).
But boat shoes. Thank heavens the fashion crowd have declared that boat shoes can once more be worn by men and women, whether you have a boat and/or a Labrador, or neither. I’m going to buy myself a pair and start greeting others with a jaunty, “Ahoy, there!”
