THE FUTURE COMES RIGHT 'ROUND TO HAUNT ME

NEW brogues. Brogues were big when I was a teenager. My mother would pull them from shelves and insist I try them on, but I was a sulky bug...


NEW brogues. Brogues were big when I was a teenager. My mother would pull them from shelves and insist I try them on, but I was a sulky bugger of a teen and clomped about the one, maybe two, stores we had in the country town where I grew up, shrug my shoulders and be completely ungrateful about the whole thing. Secretly I wanted Dr Martin boots but had neither the cash or means to get to the big city where I could buy them.

It's not with some sense of irony that a day before my 38th birthday I furtively shove not one, but two, pairs of brogues toward the op shop sales assistant along with my $15 in loose change. Worse, I am now about the same age my mother would have been way back then. My only saving grace, if there is one, is that I am not trying to drag my own teenage and adult children through stores telling them what would look good on them. Yes, yes, I may disapprovingly raise an eyebrow or scan an outfit over the top of my specs but it's just not the same without a sales assistant cringing on their behalf.

So, there you have it. Two new-to-me pairs of brogues and, today, a swanky lunch at Manfredi at Bells: a pretty neat birthday done and dusted. 
Green Bally brogues: $10, Salvos
Ox blood brogues: $5, Salvos
Post head courtesy of Beth Orton

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