In life, there are a few notable moments that reroute the course. Leaving school, moving out \u2013 or, in my case, a very tall and glamorous woman offering me a guiding principle at the tender age of ten: \u201cLiv, whatever you do, you must always buy the shoes.\u201d<\/p>\n
It\u2019s perhaps the sole piece of advice I\u2019ve clung to as an adult, with an ever-proliferating pile of jelly flats<\/a>, ballerinas<\/a>, mary-janes<\/a> and cowboy boots<\/a> now serving as stone-cold evidence. So what if I haven\u2019t worn those banana-shaped heels in more than five years? Unless I decide to undergo some sort of unusual bone-lengthening procedure, my feet aren\u2019t going to change in size \u2013 and so their day, too, will come. And when it does, I\u2019ll be glad I added them to the archive, rather than subscribing to the popular capsule wardrobe mindset. (Although, I\u2019ve never managed to practice restraint when faced with any item of clothing I like the look of.)<\/p>\n Olivia Allen<\/p>\n Another thing I\u2019ve accumulated slightly too enthusiastically? Jeans. For years, I had no more than two pairs on rotation \u2013 and then, within the space of six months, I somehow ended up with a wardrobe overflowing with denim in every imaginable wash and cut. And so, when I discovered there was a brand in London \u2013 Florrie<\/a> \u2013 that actively transforms surplus denim into the kind of heels that would make Carrie Bradshaw weep, I was once again reminded of the sage counsel I received as a child.<\/p>\n