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'I've had to rent a storage unit because my flat can't contain them': confessions of a male shoe lover

Jeepers creepers, where'd you get those loafers? - Tom Wilson-Leonard 
Jeepers creepers, where'd you get those loafers? - Tom Wilson-Leonard

This is a story of first love. Like most first loves it began in adolescence. Unlike most first loves, it was with a pair of box fresh school shoes. 

For most boys growing up, going back to school was a perfunctory chore that put a stop to a summer of running the streets in trainers but for me it was a welcome return to slipping on a more formal footwear choice.

Nowadays I'm not so alone as new research released this month by consumer analyst Mintel shows that men buy more shoes than women. Back then though, I was a real rarity in my sheer passion for footwear of all sorts of different kinds. 

Of course, growing up in '90s Yorkshire the reality was that my choices were still rather limited. Kickers or Pod reigned supreme — where are they now?

I must admit I have had to rent my own stock room of sorts

Desperate to branch out, I'd hit up York's finest department stores in search of something more shoe-like than my casual class mates. Fenwick's was my favourite because I'd heard they had one in London, which my young imagination pictured as a paradise of gold-paved streets trodden on my diamond-soled shoes.

At 15-years old I grabbed the opportunity to work a weekend job in the shoe department in Fenwick's. Walking into the stock room was like walking in to a dream world, the rows and rows of boxed shoes and the smell of leather was intoxicating. While my peers dreaded their Saturday jobs, mine was exactly where I wanted to be.

Armitage - Credit: Tom Wilson-Leonard 
'Like so many first loves, this love affair is still going strong' Credit: Tom Wilson-Leonard

Like so many first loves, this love affair is still going strong. Now on the eve of my thirtieth birthday I live in London and wear amazing shoes every day, albeit not diamond soled (and I would also note that the streets are a little muckier than the gold-paved ones I had imagined as a teen).

As a fashion stylist and blogger it's my job to be knowledgeable about shoes and it's no chore. I happily attend the invites to press events previewing next season's styles and spend my days shopping for shoes, not just for myself but for other men too. 

I'm lucky enough to be sent shoes and acquire them through work but I still manage to spend around £300 pound a month on new shoes (frivolous, I know, but as you'll have gathered, I'm not the kind of person who has any self control when it comes to footwear).  

Double monks, loafers and brogues are my shoes of choice and they are where pretty much all of my disposable income goes. My shops of choice are Kurt Geiger, Russell & Bromley and Zara, where I can find affordable yet still top quality shoes. 

I have been known to splash out on some higher end shoes too and for this I go to my mecca: the shoe hall in Selfridges. The smell takes me back to Fenwick's as a teenager, in the same nostalgic way a favourite food might for a restaurant critic tasting an old dish.

I sometimes wonder what I would do if by some tragic indecent I was only allowed one pair of shoes for the rest of my life. I think I'd have to plump for a classic black loafer. They look great with cashmere knits and denim or equally on point with a suit, or even shorts and a t shirt; their versatility knows no bounds. 

Luckily I don't think that will happen. I own over 100 pairs of shoes and counting and often have to have a clear out. It may shock you to hear I'm not that great at shoe care, but I think this is a subconscious ploy that allows me to buy more and replace the well worn shoes in my collection. 

Okay, so it's not quite 'woman marries train station' territory, but I still think I'm somewhat exceptional in my sheer adoration of shoes. I can never understand why commuters will often be seen wearing formal work attire and a pair of trainers on the tube, though I do often think that having a city job would be ideal as I could buy more shoes and use the excuse of needing them for work to validate my frivolous nature. 

My adoration for all thing footwear is, like many loves, occasionally testing. I once had a meeting with the bank, and the lady advised I quickly add up how much I had spent on shoes in my twenties. It was over £30,000, which was quite embarrassing, especially when I told her I had no plans to cut back on my shoe spending. She couldn't comprehend it, but then again this was a lady in sensible orthopaedic flats: clearly we had different views on shoes and life in general. 

At the moment I must admit I have had to rent my own stock room of sorts. Like most late twentysomethings living in London, my bedroom is a modest size and certainly not large enough to fit my ever growing shoe and clothing collection.

It seemed quite rational to rent a small storage unit close to my flat to house my excess collection. My flat mate understands this too; she's a shoe lover as well and our corridor simply couldn't take anymore.

While some of you may be questioning this love of shoes, my response would be to ask what else on this on earth can lift you and make you walk a little bit taller every day, and make you feel like your looking up every time you look down? So here's to you, penny loafers, double monks, derbies and brogues: I love you all equally, and long may it last.