A Cinderella story gone wrong

I have no exact memory of when my complicated relationship with shoes began but we hit it off hard from the beginning. The accumulation of pretty much the same 3 styles - black flats, platform high heels and biker boots - grew and decreased in my teenage years but never dropped under the 50 mark I'm sure. And it went downhill from there. As soon as I moved out to go to University (totally worked out for me, the three lectures I actually went to each week were very useful) and could not feel the judging eyes of my mother on my back, I let my footwear freak flag fly.

 Being exposed to a wider variety of fashion choices and cheap turkish shoe shops in Berlin, the collection steadily expanded. Not able to fit in only one room any more, the parts of the population had to be relocated - much to the amusement of my friends and many first time visitors - to the living room and corridor of my rather spacious 2 bedroom apartment as it can be seen here.

 Now being in London the situation slightly changed due to lack of space and a decrease in liquidity. Still, I have managed to gather quite a nice selection including a pair of black wedged Alaïa over the ankle boots, Balenciaga cut out boots, the Sonia Rykiel for h&m black patent wedges, my favourite lace up block heeled ankle boots from Bertie and countless Jeffrey Campbell numbers that I love and wear a lot.

As rational as that may sound I wouldn't even dare to count the shoe related posts on my facebook wall let alone the ones of my friend's. Because I am way too involved to just look for myself, when a particular pair reminds me of someone, I share the love. That's just the kinda girl I am. I m aware that even considering to buy a size that is not yours just for the thought of possessing them is insane and I was able to stop myself in the past but now with this little business idea on my hands there will be now more excuses. Bye bye voice of reason that oddly sounds very similar to my mother's...