Despite what the above picture may suggest, I have to say no.
I have bought my third pair of Birkenstocks. I took a walk today during lunch time and ended up at the Seven Dials. And, of course, I ended up in the Birkenstock store. I fucking love the Birkenstock store. Fo reals.
I had always wanted a pair of Birkenstocks when I lived in America, but, as any American who’s ever been interested in the shoes virtually eponymous with the ’90s hippie has found, the purchase of a pair of Birkenstocks in America will ensure the wearer won’t have the means to buy food for a month. So, well, I never purchased a pair.
But Birkenstocks in the UK can be super inexpensive! I purchased each pair I own for £29.95 in the sale section at the Birkenstock store in Covent Garden. £29.95!!
And I live in the centre of London. And when you live in the centre of London, you walk a lot. And when you walk a lot, you don’t want to be traipsing around in bunion-inducing cheap heels from New Look. Especially when those ‘cheap’ heels cost you £29.99. I’ve seen women walking around in the blizzard conditions last winter in stilettos when grown men in their trainers were slipping on the ice (by the way, watching people fall on icy pavements in front of you is hilarious). Stilettos!! For those of you who judge my Birkenstocks, have a good time with your bunged-up knees and foot corns when you’re 35. Ew. Also, I’m always tripping over the uneven London pavements (like everyone else and their mother), yet I’ve never stubbed my toes in my Birks.
And now, the shoe porn.
My first pair of Birks. Possibly purchased in a size too big, but I love them nonetheless.
Flesh-baring Birk. You hussy.
Newest, mary-jane-like Birk. Makes me feel like running in an Austrian field and singing songs.