Armadillo by William Boyd

An insurance adjuster in a Black Watch plaid suit. It doesn't get any better.

Conversation between the main character, Lorimar Black and his antique dealer (and sartorial mentor), Ivan.

I remember the day I thought I had caught Ivan out. He was wearing a hairy, snot green tweed suit with black brogues. I pointed to them and said, "Ivan, the ultimate sin - - black shoes with tweed."

"Oh, you're completly wrong, Lorimar, this is very acceptable. I'm glad you noticed it, however. It's a sign of a deeper malaise, something that's been worrying me for years.

""What's that?""It's been difficult, but I've decided that the brown shoe must be condemned. Suede yes, a brown boot-just. But I think the brown shoe is fundamentally below the salt. Something irretrievably petit bourgeois about a brown shoe, quintessentially suburban and infra dig. I threw all mine out last week, fourteen pairs, some I've had for decades. Threw them in a dustbin. I can't tell you how relieved I am, the weight off my mind.""All brown shoes?""Yes. No gentleman should wear a brown shoe ever. The brown shoe is finished. The brown shoe, Lorimer, has got to go."

From Armadillo by William Boyd

Trad Tretorns

Tretorns. How much can a shoe say? This one says a lot.

1980s. Tennis shorts that were short and made out of cotton. Fred Perry shirts. The Prince just starting to shove wood Jack Kramers off the courts. Long legged girls in tennis skirts with sweaty bangs on their forehead and a two handed backhand. Losing to a girl. Drinking cold Gins and Tonic later. She lights a cigarette. I arch an eyebrow. She crosses her legs and her tennis skirt hikes up another inch and a half. I lean to her and whisper, "How can I get back at you for beating me on the court?" She smiles and answers...

Anyway, these Tretorns were bloody hard to find. Zappos had zippo when it came to my size. These are made out of sail canvas. I love them. And the memories they bring me.