Feet first A new teen status symbol

Press, 4 March 1989, Page 16

Feet first A new teen status symbol

Rosaleen M c Carroll

Nobody will know what I’m talking about, except teen-age girls of a certain genre in this burgh. (Parents who have had to fund the indulgence should also be able to follow the gist.)

Frankly, when my teenager spoke wistfully about getting some, I didn’t know what she meant. At least I thought I did, but convinced myself she must be talking about something else because I couldn’t imagine anyone working themselves into such a lather over leather sandals.

When she said “they are so cool you can wear them to town” I was only more confused. I did not equate being belle of the boulevard with shuffling along in leather sandals.

But it turns out I was both right and wrong. They are leather sandals but they are not just leather sandals. They are a cult which their worshippers refer to by their brand name. To avoid a lawsuit or the accusation of writing an advertisement (or a non-advertisment) I shall hereafter refer to them Daisy Belles. Daisy Belles’ allure is not that they cost $135 but, that everybody knows they cost $135. Teen-age girls physically pine for Daisy Belles and parents who (cynically) take advantage of this abound. I’ve heard dozens of conversations which go something like this: “You know Nicky?” “Yeah ...”

“Well Nicky’s mum and dad are buying her some Daisy Belles.” “Really! What for?” “She got an A for maths.”

“Nicky! I used to sit beside her in maths and she was really dumb!”

Now it is hard to imagine perfectly average students driving themselves to a frenzy of achievement if the prize at the end is a pair of leather sandals. But, of course they are not just leather sandals, they are Daisy Belles. Maybe I’m obtuse, but to me leather sandals are leather sandals. Why pay three times the price if you don’t have to?

Even the most indulgent parents find it physically difficult to part with $135 for leather sandals.

My sister-in-law tried but she couldn’t so she gave her Catherine, positively aching for Daisy Belles, $135 for her birthday so she could buy them herself.

But with the money in her hot little hand, Catherine suddenly saw the light. If her Mum wanted to spend $135 buying her Daisy Belles ... fine! But she certainly wasn’t going to squander her money on leather sandals. She bought herself a whole new wardrobe instead.

But her sister Emma, who goes to a school where Daisy Belles are more entrenched, succumbed and spent her $135 birthday money on Daisy Belles. And I must say she is very happy as

she limps around pausing now and then to adjust her bandaids.

Cult worshippers are very loyal. “It’s my own fault,” says Emma, and we understand perfectly the blisters on her heels probably owe more to the greenhouse effect than her pride and joys. But non-worshippers can’t help noticing how even the firmest resolve weakens at the proximity of Daisy Belles. Catherine, who was far too sensible to spend her money on Daisy Belles has been known to borrow Emma’s to wear to town. But only when she has nothing else to wear ...

Although I have not succumbed, my daughter still keeps me posted On cult followers. I must say I was miffed when, after receiving a note from her school saying she failed the eye test, I drove her to the optician and she with the failing-eyesight was supposed to be looking for a park. When she said, “Quick, stop!” I pulled up abruptly, presuming she had found one. But no!

“See that highschool girl crossing the street?” “Yes!” "She’s wearing Daisy Belles.”

She can’t see the blackboard but she can pick out Daisy Belles at 50 paces in the five o’clock rush.

If blackboards were Daisy Belles I would not have had to fork our $250 for her flash new specs.