I hold my hands up. I have a problem, an addiction if you wish. A shoe addiction. My book shelves no longer hold books. Oh no. They are the home, the display if you may, for my trophies. My babies. My shoes. My often, so ugly they have to be beautiful shoes. The so ugly, they have to be beautiful and obviously so hideously painful they can never be worn, only to be showcased on my shelf, beautiful shoes. Alas! The details are irrelevant, I just love shoes. So since it is that time of year again, when I am compiling my christmas list, staying true to form and picking out my newest unnecessary favourites, I thought I would honour this task with an old drawing. A piece for my University interview, where I had to describe myself in pictures. This is the start of my collection, the first beautiful pair of shoes I invested in, drawn onto a desirable pair of pins from Vogue.

Shoes like that, or legs for that matter, really don’t need any explanation. They just need drawing.