I never thought in a million, trillion thought that I was a lady of the clog. While in Portland this summer I found the gateway drug of clogs at House of Vintage. Well, they aren't really cloggy, just wood veneer, and sick hardware strapping the single perf leather toe strap. But seriously, this is about as far down the clog path I was willing to go. These rigid soled honeys are surprisingly comfortable. I can do a whole mess of errands in the city no probs. The heavenly gates of clogdom opened, and I saw the light. Soon after I had the chance to process the epiphany.... the holy grail of clogs came unto me:
Aren't they obscene? Too red, too shiny, buckles insanely huge. I love them. I have an outfit in mind to summon up a Dutch school boy from the late 60's turned up a few notches (psychedlasized?). I can see it now complete with patent red backpack, culottes, a stripy blazer, a crisp button down shirt with oversized bow tie and knee sock. Or a smock. Omygod smocks. yum.