I loved these shoes for their comfort and versatility, not only because they are featured in the book 50 Shoes That Changed the World. I loved their design, not just because of the designer. I wore them in all weather and across a myriad of terrains. The first pair I bought (black with silver glitter) while out shopping for props for a photo shoot. When a second pair (plain black) whisked their way into the shop where I work, I adopted them as well.
They had one slight drawback - the tendency to get a little bit musty-smelling despite being fashioned of perfumed rubber. A few months ago after wearing these on a beach, I washed them in the machine. Subsequently I learned that this was not advised by the manufacturer. I had clearly failed to read the instruction booklet that came with my first pair.
Earlier tonight, I nonchalantly tossed both pairs of my Melissa/Westwood Mary Janes in the washing machine, to the bemusement of my mother in law, who then marvelled at the novel and easy care footwear.
With confidence I told her, they were 100% washable and would come out smelling fresh and looking shinier.
That didn't go according to plan.
They're, well, wrecked.
The insole padding has come to shreds on two, and the others have swollen lumpy insides.
They are however shinier.
But they are however rendered unwearable.
I knew full well that machine washing was not advisable, and I suspect the washer may have also been on a hot water setting. And so dear shoes, dear humble servants of fashion affinity, I regret being the cause of your demise. I miss you so, that I have behaved in the extreme.
A pair of Melissa Vivienne Westwood three-strap stilettos in midnight are on their way to my doorstep. And I solemnly swear they will never know the feel of a spin cycle.