Last week, for the first time in around six years, I took public transport. 

I was invited to The Official Bloggers Brunch in Melbourne, and rather than brave the journey in peak hour traffic, without an inkling of where I was going, I decided to catch the train.  In actual fact the journey consisted of a twenty minute drive to the train station, two trains and a tram, followed by a brief walk, but I thought it might interrupt the flow of the story to mention all of that.

Anyway, the point I am (slowly) getting to is that, as sad as it sounds, I actually found myself enjoying the journey.  You have to wonder what your life has come to when you actually begin to consider catching a train as an adventure.

Not only am I an avid people watcher, (on the occasions I do get to leave the house), but I have something of an over-active imagination.  When other passengers are staring out of the window at the buildings and scenery flashing past the window, doing their best to avoid eye contact with anyone else in the carriage, I am subtly checking everyone out.

I guess it is the writer in me, but I love to imagine what people might be like.  What did they have for breakfast?  Who are they texting?  Where are they going?  What job do they have? 

When the train carriage became too full to snoop around comfortably, I found myself surveying people’s shoes (instead of their heads).

The woman in her comfortable ballet flats, I imagined to be feminine, practical and friendly.

The man wearing the impossibly clean cream suede boots (I kid you not!) in my mind, fit the bill of a perfectionist and a bit of a control freak.

What character could I dream up for the owner of the high heel red ankle boots?  She was definitely a confident, creative trendy type.  She would be the kind of person that would wear a bin liner if it was in fashion and somehow manage to make it look fabulous.

The man in his thirties wearing black pants, black shoes and white socks, I quickly decided, either got dressed in the dark or still lived with his mother.  No self-respecting woman would let their partner leave the house committing such a fashion faux pas, would they? 

At this point I thought back to some of the horrendous outfits Hubbster has insisted on wearing in public regardless of my protests, tantrums and tears and winced.  God, I hope people don’t look at my husband’s bad dress sense and blame me!  I’ve tried, believe me.  It has come to the point when some days I have wondered if he has a DeLorean hidden somewhere that he uses to travel back in time to do his clothes shopping!

At this point, I glanced down at my own shoes.  What did my shoes say about me? 

A black pair of wedge-heeled knee high boots?  Hmmm? 

Possibly a woman who still wants to feel sexy, (when she can be bothered aka not when the footy is on) but who either has the sense to be comfortable and not give herself bunions for beauties sake, or who is too tired to attempt to walk in proper heels.  Judging by the cheap leather imitation, most definitely one of those nasty cask drinkers too!

Well, at least I know I got at least one character portrait right, eh?

So…without cheating and running to the closet to dig out a pair of killer heels, what are you wearing on your feet right now?   What do you think your shoes say about your personality or your mood?

Image: Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net