Forget Jimmy choos – i’d rather wear clarks!
the love affair started a couple of years ago with a pair of wedges. I was hurrying along the high Street on my way to work when something caught my eye in a shop window.
tan, they were, with a black and white ethnic-style heel. I looked up at the shop sign. Clarks? Seriously? no way.
now I don’t know about you, but I haven’t worn Clarks shoes since I was seven. navy, buckled sandals, with a little leaf pattern on the uppers and a nice sensible rubber sole. Wouldn’t be seen dead in a pair now, though. Frumpy, boring, the kind of shoe only old ladies and hippies wear. or so I thought.
I took a closer look. nope, I hadn’t taken leave of my senses. there they were, looking rather fabulous, positively daring me to go in and try them on. I glanced around to check no one I knew had seen me. then I went inside.
I bought not one, but two pairs of those wedges.
the first pair got chewed by the puppy and I was so bereft I bought another pair in green. But I still wear them both, the chewed and the non-chewed. and almost every time I do, someone says how nice they look. one friend even asked if they were Prada. I laughed. ‘no, Clarks,’ I said. I don’t think she believed me.
Since then, I have worn nothing else. not even when my husband bought me louboutins for my birthday. I appreciated the gesture but after a couple of days I quietly sent them back and got a refund. I couldn’t see the point. I could get five pairs of Clarks for the price of one pair of red-soled wonders. and the louboutins pinched. Clarks, by contrast, are the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever worn.
Because, you see, those ethnic wedges weren’t a one-off, a fleeting fit of stylishness in an otherwise unrelenting landscape of dreary, brown suede. they were the start of a grand passion.
Since then, I’ve acquired, in no particular order: black suede ankle boots; high-heeled gladiator sandals in mock croc (a dead ringer for Jimmy Choo); two pairs of sparkly flats (one black, one silver); a pair of brogues; a lovely pair of ballerinas, which have a secret, inbuilt arch support; spiky, black evening boots that wouldn’t look amiss in the window of Valentino; and monochrome wedges that could easily pass for Prada.
I know what you’re thinking: goodness that woman buys a lot of shoes. I know! I never used to.
But that was BC (Before Clarks). BC, I had great trouble finding shoes that were a) comfortable;
b) affordable; c) stylish; and d) well-made. I have large feet of the kind most unbecoming (I’m told) in a female.
My late grandmother, a dainty size five, blamed it on her youngest daughter’s decision to marry and have children with my father.
I, too, would never marry well, she would mutter darkly, owing to my unflatteringly large extremities.
eVentually, I think, she was proved wrong; but f or women with larger feet it is still the case that a choice has to be made between settling for the sort of thing that might be considered hot to trot at a Jeremy Corbyn rally — a pair of Birkenstocks in wholesome oatmeal, perhaps — and shoes that feel like a fiendish, medieval torture device.
In short, Marks & Spencer: affordable, stylish but poor quality — and often very uncomfortable. aldo: super- stylish, excruciating. Zara: stylish, but cheaply made, and they never have my size. russell & Bromley: madly over-priced, plus I can’t cope with the sales assistants trying to sell me an equally overpriced matching handbag.
everything else: cheap and nasty or bonkers expensive. let’s face it, £80 is what I expect to pay for a pair of shoes; £120 for a pair of boots. I think that’s fair enough. nearly all Clarks shoes fall well within that price bracket. During the sale, they’re half that. also, they have all sizes — even in the sale.
But the real genius of Clarks is the width fitting. Were the company ever to be acquired by some thrusting international conglomerate, I’m pretty certain the first thing they would do away with would be the width fitting. too costly, you see.
But it really does make a difference. not least because if I take a wide fitting, I can get away with a 7½ instead of an eight. that’s like discovering a shop where you’re a size 14 instead of a 16. Good for the soul. or, should I say, sole.
offering catwalk-inspired trends at a fraction of the cost is at the core of the Clarks strategy. But that alone would not be enough. they also offer great customer service, whether its in central london or the sticks.
My daughter and I recently bought her school shoes in Clarks in yeovil and we had superb service from the staff there, plus I managed to pick up a pair of suede boots half-price in the sale. Crucially, they know and respect their customers.
and so, while it does trendy styles for the likes of me — new season metallic silver brogues, for example, available online only — they also still stock less exciting styles for their more traditional customers.
not everything is an unadulterated triumph. Personally, I think the orla Kiely range is strangely disappointing. But most of the time, Clarks reaches out to the new without alienating the old. It’s a clever strategy but not easy to pull off. Marks & Spencer, take note.
AnD the fact that it is a 190- year- old British company which still has its head office in the West Country is just the cherry on the cake.
In 1825, James Clark was working at the tannery owned by his brother, Cyrus, in the Somerset village of Street. among the sheepskin rugs, the offcuts were piling up when James had a brainwave: ‘Slippers!’
More recently, the firm’s success is almost certainly to do with the promotion to chief executive in 2010 of Melissa Potter, who started as a graduate trainee in 1989.
Potter has focused on modernising the firm’s image, creating shoes that appeal as much to the fashion conscious as the faithful. actresses Keira Knightley and Selma Blair and singer Pixie lott have all been seen in Clarks since her arrival.
My lovely tan wedges would have been some of the first designed under her regime. the styles waiting to go in store this autumn, including patent two-tone loafers (£65, above) are even more debonair. I’ve got my eye on a pair of rather edgy biker boots (£100). Probably too edgy for a 48-year-old mother of two.
But you know what they say: ‘If the shoe fits . . .’