I'm no stranger to mules and love PVC ( although I keep it fairly limited to macs and skirts), but PVC mules? A step too far, or so I believed until I saw the crystal-studded pink pair in MR by Man Repeller’s collection for Net-a-Porter. These mules look as if Cinderella and Carrie Bradshaw have gone into business together (indeed they’re inspired by the latter’s footwear). They’re a grown-up version of jelly shoes. My heart says 'Add to shopping bag', but my head says, 'Could I really wear them on the tube?'
It’s with these (pressing) questions in mind that I agree to test drive a plastic replica from Mango for a day at the office. Working at a newspaper means I'm used to the bewildered looks from sports journos - my Yeti-sized coat always gets a double-take - but I don’t think bewildered quite covers the reaction I got to a teetering pair of PVC mules. Here’s what I learnt...
9pm: the night before: I’m scrolling through Man Repeller’s Instagram and notice that a decent pedicure is mandatory with mules. Cue the next 30 minutes spent preening my talons with Margaret Dabbs’s Geranium polish.
I ask my sister and her boyfriend what they make of them. He says, pointing at the strap: “Are those arm-bands?”; she says, “They’ll be filled with your blood by the end of the day”. I retreat to my room.
7am: Divine inspiration hasn’t struck, and I have no clue what to wear. Leandra Medine styles hers with high-waisted shorts and miles of tanned leg - I’d probably get escorted from the building for trying something similar. I slip a tiger-stripe dress over a polo neck, but with the mules it’s straight up brassy. Next, scarlet track-pants and an adidas tee. Something about my body looking PE teacher, and my feet looking pin-up feels unsettling. Eventually, I pick straight-leg jeans and a Bruta blouse embroidered with Botticelli’s the Birth of Venus. If people start staring at my feet then I can distract them with the naked chick on my chest, right?
8am: I’m looking at my feet on the way to the bus stop and notice that the plastic is so snug that it is magnifying the bones and veins on my feet…not a great look. The 48 pulls up so I attempt a spot of running. It’s surprisingly ok, if you call bending your knees and shuffling a bit running. They’re tight and prohibit fast movement, but I love how they look.
8.45am: I’m at a breakfast meeting with two fashion PRs and they’re cooing appreciatively over my mules. At work, I even get an unironic 'wicked' from someone in the Money section. Score.
10.15am: I realise that the sound of heels clacking on hard floors is one I associate with glossy, important people. Pity my tread seems more elephant than authoritative. Still, wearing a heel, even with the PVC, definitely feels more professional than trainers. I sit straighter at my desk and type decisively like a Mad Men secretary. It must be the mules - I make a mental note to wear them more often.
11.05am: A colleague is telling me about a recent TK Maxx experience, and I ask her what she thinks of my footwear. 'They’re very cool, but see you haven’t got bunions.' I feel like this might be setting the bar low, but I’m marking it down as a compliment.
1.10pm: The tiny strap across my toes is surprisingly painless (thus far) but the thick one is so tight that it’s leaving a line. I feel like I’m wearing one of those blood pressure cuffs on each foot. The Compeed count is still zero so overall I’m smug.
1.40pm: Ankle ache is setting in. I rescind the above comment about wearing mules at work. They’re also making me very self-conscious about whether I’m strutting to the loo or not.
2.30pm: Another PR meeting and this one says she 'loves' the mules with no prompting. I agree they’re awesome. But on the walk back upstairs, my feet, if this is even possible, start to feel light-headed.
4pm: My feet now have a dull ache when I’m sitting so I’ve taken to sliding them in and out of the mules. Blisters are threatening to form on my pinkies, but I won’t let them. This is desk lockdown, people.
**6pm: **It’s officially the end of the day so I’m free - hurrah! I can only imagine the comprehensive shredding they would give my toes if I wore them out but I’m confident it would only happen a couple of times before I broke them in (or my feet grew a leathery kind of hide). It’s only as I’m changing into trainers and pulling on a lurex sock that I realise my mistake - they would have been the perfect PVC buffer.
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.