Well, I'll be damned. I bought Birkenstocks.
To be fair, it was with much deliberation, and slight amounts of self-loathing that I bought into the trend. Never mind that the entire time I was in the Birkenstock store pondering their purchase, Ben was outside pretending to vomit. He also mimicked throwing them out the window of our tiny Parisian attic-appartment several times after they arrived home. Thankfully, I can confirm they have made it to Lyon unscathed, however, the rest of their future while he is around them is somewhat uncertain.
In all honesty, the true reason I bought them was due to comfort, and my word they live up to their comfort claim. Try 'walking on a cloud' comfortable, and then multiply it by a hundred. Never in my life (at least in my early-20s) did I think the benefits of adequate arch support would be a strong motivating factor in my shoe-purchasing choices. But alas, here we are - poor battered feet that can in no way keep up with the demands of european-travel, and the dreaded Birks coming to my rescue. I can now understand why they're such a popular footwear choice amongst the seniors who live in my neighbourhood. Thank goodness they're actually en vogue at the moment, or I may have had to commit a serious fashion faux-pas and purchase them regardless. Although, hopefully not in the khaki-green suede I rocked as a 12 year-old (don't judge, you know we all went through that phase).
Here's to Birks, and the impending sense of doom we all share, knowing that when we look back at pictures of 2014 we will be cringing over the sandals we all thought were 'so chic' and 'just like Daria from the Mango Spring '14 campaign'.
I can feel the nostalgic-embarassment already kicking in.