我必須得有一百雙鞋！

At even the most conservative estimate, I own about 100 pairs of shoes. I have smart high heels for taking taxi rides in and flat ones for walking in. I have elegant black ankle boots for looking-smart-but-still-being-able-to-walk in, and pointy little witchy shoes for embarrassing my daughter in.

按最保守的估計(jì)，我的鞋也有近百雙之多。我乘出租車時(shí)穿漂亮的高跟鞋，漫步時(shí)則穿平底鞋。我有既時(shí)尚又耐用的黑色漂亮短靴以及怪異的尖頭小鞋(著實(shí)讓我女兒羨煞不已)。

I own seven pairs of sneakers, two sets of wellington boots, four pairs of loafers and five lots of slippers. Some shoes are furnished with extraordinary, sculptural wedge-shaped heels, and others tipped with tiny stilettos. I own artisanal clogs that would befit a Quaker woodsmith, strappy snakeskin stilettos by Louis Vuitton and black-toed Chanel slingbacks that imbue the most banal of outfits with instant chic. I own Saint Laurent Patti Smith-style army boots, Marc Jacobs jackboots and a fabulous pair of banana-yellow boots from Céline with a fit so narrow they near give me a cardiac arrest each time I try and remove them.

我有七雙運(yùn)動(dòng)鞋、兩雙雨靴、四雙樂福鞋以及五雙拖鞋。有些鞋，帶有不同尋常的楔形雕花鞋跟，其它鞋則帶著細(xì)長(zhǎng)的高跟。我還有手工打造的木屐鞋(它們適合貴格會(huì)(Quaker)木匠穿)、路易威登(Louis Vuitton)系帶式蛇皮細(xì)高跟鞋以及香奈兒(Chanel)黑頭露跟鞋(最尋常的行頭配上它后也立顯高大上)。我有帕蒂•史密斯(Patti Smith)穿的那種圣羅朗(Saint Laurent)軍靴，馬克•雅可布(Marc Jacobs)的過膝軍用長(zhǎng)統(tǒng)靴以及一雙美不勝收的Céline香蕉黃皮靴。這雙Céline靴子太緊了，以至于每次穿與脫都快讓我心跳停止。

The volume of shoes, and the creeping accumulation of their boxes, which are piled in stacked columns of teetering shoe-scrapers in every corner of the bedroom, are now the subject of considerable marital tension. The discussion usually begins with a question: “When are you going to do something about all these bloody shoes?” And ends with me arguing that excessive shoe ownership is, in fact, a job requirement. Which is facetious yet incontrovertible: if a fashion editor can’t own a stupidly tremendous number of shoes, then who the hell can?

大量的鞋加上越來越多的鞋盒(它們壘在臥室各個(gè)角落，堆成搖搖欲墜的“鞋樓”)，如今成了我和老公關(guān)系極度緊張的源頭。我們夫妻的爭(zhēng)執(zhí)通常從下列問題開始：“你打算如何處理這些該死的鞋?”爭(zhēng)執(zhí)的結(jié)果是：我振振有詞地說這么多鞋實(shí)在是自己工作所需。結(jié)論是，話糙理不糙：時(shí)尚編輯都沒有那么多鞋，那么到底誰還應(yīng)該有?

And yet I concede. He does have a point. The bedroom does “look like a bedsit”, and the shoescrapers are entirely foul and ugly.

然而，我也得承認(rèn)，老公言之有理。我們的臥室都快成客臥兩用房了，“鞋樓”既難聞?dòng)蛛y看。

However — and I make this point in deadly earnest — I need them all. Every last pair. In the great everyday saga of getting dressed, the right shoe can make the difference between abject discomfort and a sense of pure infallibility. Nothing else can punctuate a look so efficiently — shoes are the semicolon, comma, exclamation mark and full stop of an outfit’s expression. Get a tiny detail wrong, a millimetre in heel height, the wrong toe shape, and everything looks off.

但是，我發(fā)自內(nèi)心想說：我真的需要這些鞋。每一雙都有特定用場(chǎng)。在如今這個(gè)講究穿戴行頭的時(shí)代，穿鞋合適，是件大事，決定了自卑苦惱還是趾高氣揚(yáng)。想要行之有效地突出自己形象，莫過于在意腳上的鞋款——它決定了整個(gè)行頭的效果差勁、一般、不錯(cuò)還是無與倫比。細(xì)枝末節(jié)稍有不慎，比如腳跟的毫厘之差、鞋頭形狀不當(dāng)，整體形象就會(huì)大打折扣。

As I collect clothes with the exact same enthusiasm I do footwear, my shoe needs have seemingly multiplied. This goes with that, but not this, goes with that, goes with this. I never seem to have quite the shoe that I need. And so, as a result, I’ve gotten lost in an acquisitional shoe spiral, endlessly picking up variations of the same thing in search of fashion’s holy grail — the ultimate footwear solution.

當(dāng)我以堪比買鞋的熱忱購(gòu)買衣服時(shí)，我對(duì)鞋的需求似乎一發(fā)而不可收了。這雙鞋只能配那套服裝，但配不了這套;這雙鞋既能配那套服裝，也能配這套服裝。我似乎永遠(yuǎn)沒有理想的鞋。因此，我陷入不斷買鞋的惡性循環(huán)中而不能自拔，無休止地買進(jìn)各式各樣的鞋，以圓心中的時(shí)尚圣夢(mèng)——一雙理想的鞋。

It’s an issue that becomes even more urgent in winter, when coat lengths, hemlines and socks must be factored in. Winter shoes must traverse all kinds of environmental obstacles, and work with the seasonal trends. How does one balance the current crop of three-quarter-length culottes and midi-skirts, for example? What does one wear with a wide-legged tuxedo trouser so sweeping it collects autumnal debris in its wake? An over-the-knee silver stiletto boot by Balenciaga may work marvellously well with those bold-shouldered blazer shapes, but not without an accompanying chauffeur? I do not lie when I say that such dilemmas keep me awake at night.

到了冬季，選鞋尤為重要，因?yàn)榇藭r(shí)大衣長(zhǎng)度、裙子長(zhǎng)度以及襪子都必須統(tǒng)籌考慮。冬鞋必須綜合考慮各種不利的環(huán)境因素，而且還得與時(shí)尚流行風(fēng)相契合。比方說，如何取舍如今流行的七分裙褲(three-quarter-length culottes)與中長(zhǎng)裙(midi skirts)?長(zhǎng)款寬腿禮服褲(可以說褲卷殘?jiān)?該與啥衣服搭配?巴黎世家(Balenciaga)的銀色過膝高跟靴也許與那些肩部醒目的運(yùn)動(dòng)上衣搭配效果最好，但沒有私人司機(jī)隨行是否會(huì)無此效果?我還是實(shí)話實(shí)說：權(quán)衡這種棘手問題讓我夜不能寐。

Hence, it is with no small degree of excitement to announce that I may have found the answer. The footwear solution of autumn 2016 is a knee-high, block-heeled, tan-coloured boot. It’s a practical go-with-anything colour. It’s chunky enough to bash through a normal working day but works really well with a dress, and it tilts towards this season’s 1970s trend without looking massively fashionable. The style first presented itself at the Etro show in Milan (at which I was, perversely, looking at clothes destined for the shops next February), where the models wore a sturdy gaucho boot with kasbah robes, kaftan silks and boiler suits. They looked cool, they looked comfortable, and the looks were always perfectly proportioned.

因此，當(dāng)我宣稱可能找到了最理想的鞋時(shí)，激動(dòng)之情真是難以言表。我為2016年秋季選中的鞋就是棕褐色粗跟及膝靴。棕褐色可謂百搭色。厚實(shí)的鞋跟既能綽綽有余地應(yīng)付正常忙碌的工作日，又能恰如其分地搭配各種裙裝，而且它很好地因應(yīng)了這個(gè)時(shí)裝季流行的上世紀(jì)70年代復(fù)古風(fēng)格(同時(shí)又沒有時(shí)髦過頭)。這種款式首現(xiàn)于埃特羅(Etro)米蘭時(shí)裝周：模特腳穿結(jié)實(shí)耐用的高喬人皮靴(gaucho boot)，身穿北非風(fēng)格的長(zhǎng)袍、土耳其真絲長(zhǎng)袍以及連體工作服在T型臺(tái)上走秀。這些裝束顯得既新潮又著眼，整體層次效果無與倫比。

The seed of an obsession was planted. And a short internet trawl later I found my boots at APC, the fantastic French fashion house at which one so often finds the things one really needs. This season, the store is selling an “Iris” boot (£490), made in a thick, shiny conker-brown leather with a stacked square heel. I bought mine four weeks ago and haven’t taken them off since. They work with everything in my wardrobe and they never hurt. They weren’t cheap, but according to the fashion economy of cost-per-wear I reckon I’ll break even by Christmas.

自此，我可以說是為鞋消得人憔悴。稍微瀏覽一下網(wǎng)絡(luò)，自己就在法國(guó)時(shí)尚名牌APC門店找到了心儀的鞋，這個(gè)網(wǎng)店通常能讓時(shí)裝愛好者滿足心愿。這個(gè)時(shí)裝季，APC門店正熱銷“Iris”方形疊跟款皮靴(售價(jià)490英鎊)，它由光亮厚實(shí)的深栗色(conker-brown)真皮打造而成。這雙皮靴與自己衣柜的所有服飾都那么般配，彼此交相輝映。皮靴價(jià)格不菲，但按照時(shí)裝經(jīng)濟(jì)學(xué)的每次著裝成本衡量，我認(rèn)為到今年圣誕節(jié)自己就能穿夠本了。

Most importantly, the reason I know these boots are the solution is that every day I’ve worn them someone has approached me to ask where they’re from. Sartorial validation has been secured in every instance: the woman in the audience of a talk last week who rushed up afterwards; the fellow editor sat on the front row; the fashion designer who recalled owning something “just like that in the 1970s”.

最重要的是，我清楚這雙靴正中自己下懷的理由是：我每天穿著它上班時(shí)，總有人向我打聽它是從哪兒買的。自己選對(duì)這雙皮靴不斷有實(shí)例為證：有位女聽眾在上周報(bào)告會(huì)后一再催問我皮靴的來源，坐在報(bào)告會(huì)前排的一位同行時(shí)尚編輯也是如此，某時(shí)裝設(shè)計(jì)師回憶自己上世紀(jì)70年代曾有一雙類似款式的“皮靴”。

Best of all, I’ve now been stopped five times (and counting) on the Tube to be asked about my boots. Smug? You bet I am. Not since I bought a pair of green suede pirate boots (from Schuh in 1999) has a single item in my possession invited so much attention.

最讓我得意的是：在地鐵上已有五人次(而且還在不斷增加)問及皮靴的賣處。感覺爽吧?當(dāng)然啰。自本人1999年從Schuh門店購(gòu)買一雙綠色山羊皮海盜靴以來，還沒有哪件行頭獲得如此高的關(guān)注度。

On the flipside, with the discovery of a solution, the shoescrapers are becoming daily more endangered, more likely than ever to be suddenly condemned. And so I’ve had to mix it up a bit to ensure a stay of execution. I may have found the ultimate winter footwear, but I still need all those shoes.

另一方面，淘到理想的鞋后，家里壘起的“鞋樓”的處境越來越不妙，遭遇“突然處理”的概率越來越高。所以嘛，我不得不間或穿穿它們，以延緩這些鞋“退出江湖”的日期。我最終也許能淘到理想的冬鞋，但目前我仍需要這些鞋發(fā)揮余熱。