A note from Leya
At 67, a stranger asked how I could possibly walk in my boots
Every Saturday I walk into town for the market. Bread from the same stall, flowers if they're nice, and a coffee on the bench by the church. I wear trainers, because it's Saturday and I'm 67 and my feet have opinions. Most of the women my age at that market are in the same trainers.
Last Saturday I was in the queue for bread when the woman behind me tapped my shoulder and asked something I've been repeating to anyone who'll listen.
Sorry, but can you actually walk in those?
She meant my boots. She'd been looking at them all the way down the queue, and she couldn't believe anything that smart would survive the cobbles. By the time I had my loaf, the woman on the stall had asked where they were from as well. It isn't often my feet are the centre of attention, and I found I quite liked it.
How it happens
Somewhere in your fifties, your feet start making the decisions. Pointed toes pinch, heels are out of the question, and fiddly laces mean bending down in the hallway while your knees complain. So you end up in trainers, or in those sensible shoes that look as though they came with a prescription.
The smart boots in the shops don't help. Narrow at the front, high at the back, and a zip in the one place you can't quite reach.
I'd given up on nice boots. Or I thought I had, until a stranger in the bread queue asked me how I walked in mine.
What I had wrong
I thought the choice was between comfortable and smart. Shoes I could walk in, or shoes I liked looking at, but never the same pair.
The answer turned out to be boots designed around the things that actually matter. A rounder toe with proper room, a low flat sole, and a zip down the side so they go on in seconds.
Same jeans. Same Saturday. And suddenly my feet look like they belong to a woman who has somewhere nice to be.
Mine are the Marlowe
They're from Susan and Kate London, a British label started by two sisters.
They're called the Marlowe, and it was the shape that made me stop scrolling. The toe is round and roomy rather than pointed, but from the front they still look neat and smart, not clumpy. They come in five colours, which made choosing the hardest part.
The side zip is the real trick. No laces and no bending double in the hall. I sit on the stairs, zip, and go. They're flexible, so they move with my feet rather than fighting them, the low flat sole feels steady on uneven ground, and they keep my feet warm on a cold morning.
What happened at the market
I wore them with jeans and my usual coat, and walked round the whole market twice because I didn't want to go home. Nobody looked at my trainers, because I wasn't wearing any.
My daughter, who has bought me sensible shoes for three birthdays running, saw them on Sunday and asked whether they came in her size. That's the kind of boots these are.
Three things I've learned since
One. Room for your toes changes everything. I hadn't realised how much of my day I spent noticing my feet until I stopped.
Two. The zip is a small miracle. Seconds to put on, seconds to take off. On a cold morning with the labrador waiting at the door, that matters more than I'd like to admit.
Three. They go both ways. Jeans and a jumper for the market, a skirt and tights for lunch out. Same boots, and they look right with both.
About the price
I want to be straightforward about this, because it was the thing that made me hesitate.
The Marlowe are £34.95 at the moment. They were £115.00.
I've paid more than that for sensible shoes I was embarrassed to be seen in. Boots that go with everything and don't hurt felt almost too good at that price, so I checked I could send them back within 30 days if the size was wrong. Delivery was free, too.
I did what I imagine you're doing now and read the reviews before I ordered. Just over three hundred of them, sitting at 4.8 stars. Not a suspiciously perfect five, which if anything made me trust them more.
What I'd tell you if we were friends
If you and I were sat on that bench by the church with a coffee and you asked me, this is what I'd say. So here it is, the short version.
Keep the comfort. Just stop accepting that comfortable has to mean frumpy. Your feet deserve boots that are kind to them, and the rest of you deserves boots you actually like.
Two practical things. The sale is on now, and the middle sizes always go first. They run from a UK 3 to a 10.
The trainers are still by the back door. They're for the garden now.
Leya
Marlowe | Ankle Boots
£115.00 £34.95
- Easy side zip, on and off in seconds
- Roomier round toe
- Flexible and light on the foot
- Low, stable flat sole
- Cosy on colder days · five colours
- UK sizes 3 to 10
- Free UK delivery
Sale on now. The middle sizes go first.
Leya Whitmore is 67 and lives in Guildford with a labrador. She is not a fashion writer.
Susan and Kate London · Free UK delivery · 30 day returns