A letter from a reader

At 68, I have finally stopped taking my shoes off under the table

I have never written anything like this before, and I will say at the start that I am not a writer, and I have certainly never written about shoes.

But at my cousin's golden wedding do on Saturday, my friend Sheila leaned over during the toasts and whispered, how are your shoes still on. And she was right to ask. She has known me a long time, and my shoes have never once made it past the speeches.

Because every woman my age knows the routine, even if nobody talks about it.

Smart shoes behave for the first hour. Somewhere around the main course, they come off under the table.

And then the speeches end, the dancing starts, and half the women in the room perform the same discreet scramble, fishing for their shoes with their toes like it is a fairground game. I have done it at every wedding, christening and anniversary for as long as I can remember. I assumed that was simply what smart shoes were.

How it happens

Occasion shoes are bought for the first hour. They are chosen standing in front of a mirror, worn to the venue, and judged on how they look at the arrival drinks.

Nobody buys them for hour five. Nobody asks how they will feel during the clearing up. So we all own shoes that look lovely in the photographs and spend the evening upside down under a chair.

What I had wrong

I thought comfort and smart were two different shelves. The comfortable shoes were for daytime, and the smart shoes were for enduring.

What I had not tried was a shoe that is soft where it touches you and structured where it holds you. Give where feet actually are by nine in the evening, cushioning under the ball of the foot, and a heel you can stand about on. It turns out that is not a compromise. It is just a better-made shoe.

The shoes are called the Gwendolina

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

The shoes are called the Gwendolina. A soft black slip-on pump in supple vegan leather, with daisies stitched across the front in black on black, so they read as texture rather than decoration. The toe is softly pointed rather than sharp, and the heel is a chunky block at a sensible height, enough to dress you up, stable enough to carry a plate of buffet one-handed.

The stitched daisies are the part people notice. They catch the light when you move and disappear when you stand still, which I have decided is exactly the amount of decoration I want at my age.

What happened at the golden wedding

I wore them from the arrival drinks through the meal, the speeches, the dancing I supervised rather than joined, and the last of the clearing up.

They never came off. Not at the main course, not during the toasts, not once. Sheila noticed before I did, which tells you how unusual it is.

She has since ordered the red pair, which between us is the highest compliment Sheila pays anything.

Three things I have learned since

One. Soft is not the same as flimsy. The supple finish gives where your foot widens as the day goes on, but the block heel and the shape keep everything held. Soft where it touches you, structured where it carries you.

Two. The cushioning is doing the real work. The insole takes the pressure off the ball of the foot, which is where every long do sends its bill. Five hours on my feet and no bill arrived.

Three. The black is not the only one. There is a deep red and a warm brown, same daisies, same heel, and they run from a UK 2 to a 6. Sheila's red is apparently “the nicest thing on her shoe rack”, her words, delivered like a court ruling.

About the price

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

The Gwendolina is £27.95. It was £56.00.

My first thought was that under thirty pounds buys the sort of shoe that squeaks, pinches and peels by the third wearing. These do not. The finish is soft and evenly stitched, the daisies are neatly done rather than printed on, and the heel is solid under you. They are a small boutique selling directly, so there is no department store taking a cut in the middle, and the sale is on now.

I do not trust perfect scores, so I read the reviews before I ordered. Just over three hundred of them, sitting at 4.2 stars, which sounded like real people, so I read on. One woman had written, “Wore them to my son's wedding from noon to midnight and they never came off once. The little daisies got more comments than my hat.” That settled it.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sat with a pot of tea and you asked me, this is what I would say.

If your smart shoes also come off under the table at every do, you have not got difficult feet. You have got shoes bought for the first hour. There is now a pair built for the whole evening, with daisies on, for under thirty pounds.

Not because a pair of shoes will change your life. They will not. But there is something in standing up when the music starts, without the scramble, without the wince, that I had written off as part of getting older. It is not. It was the shoes all along.

Two practical things. The sale is on at the moment and the stock is going. Black, red or brown, UK 2 to 6, and once this batch is gone it is gone.

The shoes stayed on. The routine is retired.

Pat