I remember my first pair of red shoes, ankle straps, patent. I was 10 years old, I thought I was Dorothy. It’s a memory of a childhood blissfully unaware of myself or the future. Happy in the present daydream.
I think the same naivety can be felt from my wedding shoes, the innocence of loves young dream. Worn only once they are incarcerated in an antique chest soon to be immortalised. Released from the darkness, a different kind of self portrait.
Immortalising the memory is a different way of listening.
Shoes seem to be an object of provenance, less invasive than a portrait. A sensitive way to tell a story. It can help ground you give you a sense of belonging by documenting each chapter.
Listening to clients tell their story is enchanting and I feel privileged to see the shoes that hold so much provenance.
From Vegas to Valencia and as far as New Zealand with stories rich in love and laughter.