La La La, I’m Not Listening!

Recently I have been waxing lyrical about stripes. Non-nautical stripes. Vintage ‘barberstripes’ of the 18th and 19th centuries. There were so many stripes in the most recent story I couldn’t jam these shoes in too.

They look so pretty floating in the clouds up there you’d never suspect their sinister background, would you (pardon the pun)? You see, they stank. Possibly they still do.

I bought them on eBay for a song. The English seller had two pairs, and they were going for around £9. The price alone should have warned me. But I snapped them up and eagerly awaited their arrival. When I finally ripped into the box, an offensive waft of glue and plastic assailed my nostrils. I quickly slammed the lid back on and shoved them under my desk at work, hoping no-one else had noticed the stench.

I should have learned after The Last Time.

They look so pretty floating in the clouds up there you’d never suspect their sinister background …

However, ever the optimist, I took them home and hung them outside on the clothesline to air. After a few days with no olfactory improvement, I sprayed them liberally with Oust 3.1, a general odour eliminator, air sanitiser and all-round germ killer, and left them out on the line. I continued this process for a couple of weeks. They improved somewhat.

I ventured to wear them, and held my breath all day at work. I took them home, and shut them up in a plastic shoebox with a cotton wool ball soaked in lavender oil. I reasoned that since the shoes were made of fabric, they should soak up this far more pleasant smell.

This worked quite well. I don’t say there isn’t the faintest whiff of eau de glue about them, but they are bearable – and wearable. I’ve left the cotton wall ball in with them just to be safe. And perhaps I have learned my lesson this time, and when I next see cheap shoes on the internet I will listen to that little angel whispering into my right ear – rather than the blandishments of The Other One.