“Objectivity regarding brogues relies on a number of variables. Hence: it depends. A quality pair of brogues (with good material, color, and shape) CAN look good on certain people. By process of elimination, I conclude that they don’t look good on women with cankles.”
~ SDJ, fashion police
The ensemble: Blue cardigan (Red Girl), blue denim with periwinkle detail tube dress (YRYS), AND THE cream brogues (Cole Vintage); thanks TJ for the place and the iPhone, and JC for the all-out support
Some eons ago I, the fashion primitive, thought I might actually hack putting on brogues – “oh, those ugly shoes for women,” typed the fashion police on our Skype friends thread. I ended up almost hacking my keyboard to square bits instead, in an effort to virtually bark out a defensive answer.
What could you really say to a heels person; the guy who advocates women’s right to step on a good duo of three-inches and who always sizes it up himself, that if an outfit could match effortlessly with high heels, why should a lady bother with flat footwear? Point taken. Next thing I knew, a deal was on. And I was hell-bent on proving him wrong (at first). I even came up with a plan:
1. Google “brogue looks” to copy.
2. Search for that kind of dress that won’t flow seamlessly with high heels.
3. Buy a neutral, two-toned, or three-toned brogues for a good finish.
The Brogue Project was spurred on to completion by the support of my circle of friends in the office, the fashion police included — we call ourselves the trolls. After I went over the whole shebang, my friends’ verdict was… well, it was a smashing success. And this is where friendship trumps fashion. It feels warm to be surrounded by a small bunch that would nudge you to express yourself a little more than the usual.
Let me confess: I wasn’t the type who believed in making genuine connections at work. I sucked at it before. But whatever my doubts were, the trolls erased them.
We’ve been through the last Christmas, Valentine’s Day, birthdays, lunch-outs, after-work hangouts, 3PM breaks, all sorts of breaks (like bio-breaks and “cut us some slack, we are PMS-ing” for the girls, sorry TMI), spontaneous photo shoots, teasing, violent reactions, and so yeah, I mean all those shared memories.
We differ in so many things: age, heel-size preferences, fashion statements, Alma mater, lunch-out venue decisions, religious and perhaps political opinions, etc. But we, the seven of us, are always welcome to be ourselves and speak our minds on the thread or face-to-face.
They have taught me things I never learned in school, like anger management and sensitivity. They also never fail to make me laugh. I’d be worse than a hermit to not admit that yes, what I have here are people whose companionship and presence have filled a part of my life. It is not by way of survival or chance that I am friends with them. This I can say with all my <3. Yet they hate sappy moments like this so I should stop. Better yet, might we stop for a…