Crocs Cayman Shoes

As some of you may already be aware, the way to my heart is with handbags and shoes. Large cash deposits are also much appreciated but don’t come along all that often. As far as shoes are concerned, I like pretty shoes, generally with sparkly bits and, ideally, bows.

However, for the past couple of weeks I’ve been limping in the manner of a geriatric who has recently had a hip replaced. This could be due to the fact that I attempted to kick a 6 ton boat off a rock (that some other incompetent had wedged it on, I hasten to add) or it could be down to years of wearing shoes that are too tight, too cramped, too high, or just weighed down with too many bows. It had got to the stage that I was limping so badly that my knee had become quite sore as a result of walking awkwardly on my left foot, and I really thought that ropes and some kind of winch mechanism might be necessary in order to get me off the sofa.

This is where my ginger friend Paula comes in. Now, I have large feet (size 7 – 8, astonishingly) but they look quite small when not encased in shoes and socks. Paula, entertainingly, is possessed of tiny hands, big feet (which, if anything, look even bigger than they actually are), and a big head. (This isn’t in any way relevant, but it’s a diverting aside. Her father was once driving around the town she lives in, saw her outside a very distant coffee shop and beeped. Later on she asked him how he had managed to spot her from that distance. His answer? “I saw that big ginger head and I knew it couldn’t be anyone else.”) Anyway, last week, despite my very real concerns that she would infect me and my car with her ginger, I drove Paula up to Donegal for a wee holiday. She was wearing a pair of the ugliest shoes I believe I have ever seen. During the 2 hour journey I’d exhausted all the ginger-related insults available so when we arrived I took some time to laugh at her shoes. When she finished hitting me with them she explained that because her feet are so comically broad (honestly, they’re like flippers. You’d think she could have been an Olympic swimmer by now. It’s probably all the ginger holding her back. Or possibly her big head creates extra drag in the water. It’s a tough call) she sometimes has a problem getting shoes to fit properly but these did, and, moreover, were the most comfortable shoes she’d ever worn. She then exhorted me to try them on. Naturally, I made her scrub them with disinfectant first to ensure that no ginger cross-contamination could occur and then had a wee walk around in them. And, amazingly, the ginger was right. They were the most comfortable shoes ever.

Ginger Paula explained that they’re called Crocs, are made of moulded resin and have air vents around the top and sides of the shoes to ventilate your feet and also have a textured sole that moulds to the contours of your feet. The particular resin that the shoes are made of inhibits the bacteria that make your feet smell bad when they sweat. They’re also non-slip, lightweight, non-marking and come in a wide range of lurid shades. (Actually, I’m lying. Ginger Paula only told me that they’re called Crocs. I found the rest out from their website. There is, after all, only so much you can expect from a ginger).

The best thing about them was that, aside from looking comically ridiculous, they eased the pain in my foot and I was managing to hobble around a lot faster in them. Now, the downside with these shoes is that they don’t seem to be sold in shoe shops but rather in little independent stores or stalls. The place I got mine was a small partitioned stand within the local shopping centre run by a middle aged woman who was possibly on day release and definitely drunk.

Immediately she told me try on a pair of size 8’s. I did and felt like I was wearing clown shoes. The fact that they were bright orange did not help any. I told her they felt too big and there commenced a lot of her pulling up my trouser leg to see where my heel was, poking my toes and squeezing her hands inside the shoes (whilst my feet were in them). She conceded that she had a size 7 that might be a better fit which I dutifully tried on. When I told her that in those I still had plenty of room at the back of my heel she responded with the immortal line ‘yes, dear, but you must remember that you’re wearing health shoes now.’ Feeling suitably admonished and also like I’d aged 60 years in the space of 5 minutes I handed over 29 quid for a bright pink pair (called, with no apparent logic whatsoever, ‘Caymans’) and wore them home.

The main negative is that they’re not great for driving. They are really big and clunky and the soles are nearly an inch thick so it’s hard to feel the pedals and if you drive a car that has pedals that are close together, like mine, it’s very easy for your foot to slip from the accelerator to the brake and vice versa. Mind you, for the thrill seekers amongst you that does give the 5 minute drive to the shops a certain nerve-jangling charm.

In most other respects, though, they do exactly as they promise. They’re easy to clean – a quick rinse in the shower or rub with a baby wipe does the job nicely. They don’t smell and nor do your feet seem to get sweaty when wearing them. They grip well and don’t mark wooden or stone floors, although they do leave indents on carpet. They’re available in a wide range of styles and migraine-inducing colours for men, women and children. Most of the ranges have a heel strap that can also be flipped forward so that they become clogs. Little charm type things called, inanely, ‘Jibbitz’, to go in the ventilation holes can be purchased for a modest fee, but that, I feel, is a bridge too far. Needless to say, Paula has a daisy, a Celtic knot and Scooby Doo on hers. I have not the words. The shoes can be ordered from the internet but it’s advisable to go and actually interact with the drunk and mentally infirm lady running your local stall as they need to be a good fit or they can become quite painful.

The best thing is the comfy and textured soles which mean you can walk or stand all day without becoming uncomfortable and, at the same time, feel like your feet are being stroked and kneaded by lots of midgets (this, I should explain, is a good thing).

Sadly, despite all these positives, there’s no way around it: they’re astonishingly ugly. At best you will look eccentric and misguided. At worst, you will look like a twat. It’s the price you pay for having comfortable feet.http://www.crocs.com/