Shoe Galleries on Two – Selfridges

Long ago Marilyn Monroe said: "Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world." I took it to heart…

So it was with great joy that I realised earlier today I had a couple of meetings in the West End that would leave me with a little time to venture into Selfridges to take a peek at the new Shoe Galleries. And so I did….

As I rode the escalator up to the second floor I was mesmerised by the bright display of neon shoe sculptures that hung like a shower of sweeties from the roof. Hypnotised. And there were little cards hidden inside this spectacle asking innocently “What’s your shoe story?”. Here we go. I started to think about happier times when I did shoe shopping trips in San Francisco and a marvellous day out with my best friend when we dedicated a whole day to visit Kensington and seek out Manolo Blahnik’s hidden store there…but I digress.

I followed the shoe signs not even noticing the wondrous fashions all around me until I saw it – a huge bronze strappy sandal, bedecked in flickering coloured lights and with a sparkling inner sole marking the entrance to shoe heaven. I had arrived.

There are vast spaces with more shoes than you can imagine. It starts with the High Street chains – Top Shop and Dune - and as you enter the depths you reach little nooks and crannies in which the designer brands nestle. My strategy was to work the perimeter and move in to the centre – an expedition of this magnitude required planning.

I sailed past Prada, Gucci, Repetto and Dior – spying Chanel in the distance – and found myself in a little corner of scrumptiousness in Christian Louboutin. I had heard kitten heels were back and I wanted a pair with a red backdrop. Alas, but true to style, there were only heels of a vertiginous nature so my charge cards remained safely in my purse.

Undeterred, I explored those exquisite little works of fashion art further. I tarried a while in Jimmy Choo – very tempted as they had some kitten heels there. Managed to resist – again – the Paul Smith pumps that I have long admired (I simply have too many Paul Smith stripes – I try to remember that less is more). I wandered around L K Bennett and then Kurt Geiger (and KG) in a little daze.

Almost desperate at the paucity of kitten heels I was stopped in my tracks by a perfect pair of black courts by Stuart Weitzman. Mmmn. But still, I dragged myself away with just a backwards glance at some of the fabulous boots to be found in Ugg and River Island.

Despite the Government urging me to spend to save the economy, I left that shoe emporium empty handed. I even made it through the handbag department (Ok, I stopped to stroke a buttery soft Prada tote – but I did not take it from the shelf to cuddle, I promise).

Walking into the relative fresh air on Oxford Street I felt rejuvenated. I had been to shoe retail therapy for serious addicts and emerged with my bank balance in tact. Victory. I was feeling so pleased with myself that I was totally unprepared to find those Stuart Weitzman shoes in Russell & Bromley on the way to Bond Street tube station. Argh.

But, as Carrie Bradshaw (the ultimate shoe addict) said: “The fact is, it's really hard to walk in a single girl's shoes. That's why we need really special ones now and then to make the walk a little more fun."