A letter from a reader

At 67, I had given up on pretty shoes, because my feet simply could not take heels any more

I have never written anything like this before, and I want to say at the start that I am not a writer and I am not in the habit of telling other women what to wear.

But four different women asked me about my sandals at a wedding a fortnight ago, and I have now explained it enough times that it seemed easier to write it down properly.

For a good few years now, dressing up has come with a quiet dread of the shoes. My good heels finished my feet off before the speeches, and the only comfortable things I owned were flat, sensible and rather dull.

Pretty, or comfortable. When it came to shoes, I had decided you could only have one.

So I would wear the heels for the photographs, kick them off under the table, and hobble to the car at the end wishing I had never bothered.

I did not choose that. Nobody sets out to dread their own shoes. It happens quietly, one painful wedding at a time.

How it happens

The shops seem to think that once your feet want a bit of comfort, you have also stopped caring how they look. So the comfortable sandals come flat and plain and orthopaedic-looking, in beige or black, cut for practicality and nothing else.

And anything with a bit of sparkle to it is perched on a heel, as though glamour and standing up straight could not possibly go together.

So you keep the pretty painful pair for best, wince through the occasions, and go back to the dull flat ones for real life.

What I had wrong

Here is the bit I got most wrong. I thought a shoe that sparkled had to hurt.

It does not. These are genuinely flat and cushioned underfoot, so I can stand and walk and dance without a thought. But across the toes there is a clear strap set with a large crystal that catches the light exactly like a proper dressy shoe. From across a room, and certainly from a chair, nobody could tell they are as comfortable as they are.

Sparkle and comfort, in the same flat sandal. That is the combination I had assumed did not exist, and it took me until 67 to find it.

They are called the Petra

They are from Manchester Boutique, a small British boutique that has been quietly dressing women our age for a few years now.

They are called the Petra. A flat slip-on sandal with a clear strap and a large sparkling crystal across the toes, on a slim silver sole. They slide straight on, which when you are getting ready is no small mercy.

They are light, they are cushioned, and because the strap is clear they go with absolutely everything, a summer dress, trousers, or a skirt, without you having to think about it. And they slip on and off without bending down to a buckle, which my back is grateful for.

That is really all there is to it. It is not complicated. It is just a comfortable shoe that somebody made beautiful.

What happened at the wedding

I wore them for the first time to the wedding, with a simple summer dress.

Four women asked me where they were from. Four. One of them was Ann, who I have known since our children were at primary school and who has never once commented on anything I have worn.

She said they looked ever so glamorous. I have decided to take that as a compliment.

What I noticed more than the compliments, though, was that I never once thought about my feet. I stood through the photographs, I danced after dinner, and I walked to the car at the end still perfectly comfortable, which has not happened at a wedding in years.

I have worn them for the shops and round the garden since, and they are just as happy dressed down. That is the rarest sort of shoe. The one you can wear to a wedding and then to water the pots, and feel right in either way.

Three things I have learned since

One. Flat can still be glamorous. The crystal does all the dressing-up, so a completely flat, cushioned sole never once looks like a compromise.

Two. Clear straps go with everything. Because the strap all but disappears, they finish a dress, trousers or a skirt without a second thought, so they earn their place all summer.

Three. Slip-on is a gift. No buckles, no bending down, no fiddling. They go straight on, which at my age I appreciate more than I can say.

About the price

I want to be straightforward about this, because it was the thing that made me suspicious.

The Petra sandals are £26.95. They were £54.00.

My first thought, honestly, was that there had to be a catch, because you can pay far more than that for pretty shoes that cripple you by lunchtime.

There is no catch that I have found. They are a small boutique selling directly, so there is no department store taking a cut in the middle, and they run a summer sale to shift the season's stock before it turns.

I did what I imagine you are doing now and went and read the reviews before I ordered. Just over three hundred of them, sitting at 4.2 stars. Not the suspiciously perfect five you see on some websites, which if I am honest made me trust it rather more. Real people, mixed opinions, mostly very good.

I only wish I had found them a few weddings ago.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sat in the garden and you asked me, this is what I would say.

If you have quietly stopped wearing the pretty shoes because your feet cannot take them any more, and resigned yourself to dull flat ones, then it is worth ten minutes of your evening to go and look.

Not because a pair of sandals will change your life. It will not. But being able to look nice and stay on your feet all day is a small joy I had given up on, and I would rather you did not give up on it too.

Two practical things. The sale is on at the moment, and the middle sizes are the ones that go first. And once the summer stock has sold through, that is it until next year.

I danced at that wedding, and I walked to the car without a wince.

Maggie