The day I gave up style...

Having sworn I wasn’t going within fifty feet of a fashion show this season, I have relented in the case of a designer friend. She’s asked me to help style and do the run through of her first runway collection with her. (She’s showing with a group of young designers.)

I am about to leave for the run through wearing these on my feet.

This is how I know I have crossed the rubicon. Five years, heck, a year ago, I would have stuck pins in my eyes rather than leave the house wearing such remedial-looking footwear. And in the vicinity of fashion week! Looking like Gerry Halliwell in her Buffalo trainer-wearing days.

But my desire to wear a bikini when I hit LA is stronger and so I am now cruising around Manhattan in these monstrosities. Ladies ( and gentleman): I give you the Masai Barefoot Trainer.

Christ. I can't believe I am doing this. I blame the press office who sent them to me. At least I won't have to worry about brushing my hair or looking soignée. No one's going to be street-style photographing me today.