Shoes, glorious shoes

Are you ready for episode # 4 of my September travelogue? I really hope you are as I've got something rather special for you in store!

It was Thursday the 4th of September and, although we woke up to sunshine, layers of grey cloud soon started appearing on the horizon. Thankfully the wind had finally calmed down, so that at least it wouldn't be tampering with the day's highs of 22°C. The weather forecast was still uncertain, though, with a promise of rain at some point during the day.

We'd exhausted most of the immediate area's wet weather options over the years and as we weren't in the mood for a repeat, we cast our nets further afield.

Our destination of choice was the industrial town of Izegem, a drive of just under an hour from our holiday cottage. If you're wondering about the appeal of this particular town, then let me introduce you to this gem of a 1930s Art Deco building, the existence of which I would have been completely unaware of if it weren't for an episode of  Belgium's version of Four in a Bed. The moment I clapped eyes on the building's magnificent façade, I knew I wanted to visit this former shoe factory turned museum.

Having consulted the museum's website, I noted that it was open from 10 am until 5.30 pm. However, it turned out that outside of the school holidays the museum was only open in the afternoons, so that upon arrival at around 11 am we found its doors firmly locked. 

Still, our attempts to gain entry had attracted the attention of one of the members of staff, who came and told us that the museum was closed. He must have seen the disappointment on our faces though, so after inquiring whether we'd come far, he decided to open up the museum just for us! We couldn't thank him and his colleague, who had to start up the museum's computer system to allow us to pay for our entrance tickets, enough. Such a lovely thing to do!

For decades, Izegem was widely known as the Belgian capital. In fact, the term Chaussure d'Iseghem (transl. shoe of Izegem) was a highly valued hallmark, the city owing much of its wealth to the shoe industry.

After having paid for our tickets, we were directed to take the lift to the top floor for a temporary exposition called Schoen. Passie (transl. Shoe. Passion), dedicated to the fascination with high-heeled shoes for women. 

 

The shoes on display here are a selection of two significant donations of private shoe collections received by the museum in 2024.

These donations, which add up to over 2500 pairs of shoes and significantly expanded the museum's collection, used to belong to Frieda Dauphin-Verhees from Antwerp and Louis Henrard from Liège. Together, they are offering an overview of more than a century of shoe fashion. 

Our heads still reeling after feasting our eyes on shelf after shelf filled with seriously drool-worthy shoes, we descended to the third floor. Here one can find an exhibition dedicated to that other industry that put Izegem on the map from the 19th century until well into the 20th century: brushes!

Dating from around 1935 and made in Birmingham rather than Izegem, this enamelled toilet set instantly caught my attention due to the similarity with a set we picked up in a UK charity shop many years ago.

Descending to the second floor where the main part of the shoe collection is housed, I was distracted by the splendour of the Art Deco interior. 

The original colour schemes of the granite floors, wall paintings and windows were meticulously restored in 2015. 

The whole floor was a photographer's delight, especially since we had the place to ourselves and didn't have to photograph around people. In fact, only Jos and one other guy insisted on being in the frame!

The guy in question (and I don't mean Jos!) was Edouard Dierick (1800-1875), the founder of the Izegem shoe industry. 

Aged 12, he started as an apprentice in his father's shoemaker's workshop. Following the sudden death of his father, Edouard took over the business. At that point, he had never made a complete shoe. Nevertheless, he managed to improve and increase production. He even invented a ruler to measure the length and width of the foot, a system that would be adopted in the United States a hundred years later.

Eduard is best known for the patent for waterproof shoes that he received from King William I. 

As a token of gratitude for receiving this patent, he presents William I with a pair of boots, of which he makes this identical replica (top left) for his store. Dating from 1830, it is made of calf's leather, hand-sewn and with delicate ornamental stitching on the heels.

In 1935, Edouard recreated his masterpiece by making a pair of boots for King Leopold I (top right), which were exhibited at the industrial exhibition in Brussels.

These shoes and boots, displayed in one of the rooms, all date from the early 1900s. Isn't that pair of tan lace-up boots the stuff of dreams? Not that I would ever be able to walk in those heels. Sadly enough, those days seem to be over ...

A replica of a shoe shop was set up in another room, where one was invited to try on the shoes displayed on the shelves. While Jos was resting his feet on a chair in the corner, I insisted on getting my money's worth by trying on the pairs in my size which appealed to me. The heels on the ones on the left were quite lethal, though. I was glad to be back in my trainers!

After this brief intermezzo, we oohed and aahed at the shoes displayed in a time-line of shoe fashion over the years. Suffice to say that there were quite a few pairs I wouldn't mind having in my collection. 

The former shoe factory in which the museum is housed was founded in 1863 by Emiel Vandommele, who was a pupil of the aforementioned Eduard Dierick. After many wanderings around Izegem, they finally ended up here in 1909 and the factory became known as Eperon d'Or.

They were proud to be certified purveyors to both the Belgian and the Luxemburg courts, as evidenced by the rather large Royal Arms on the front of the building. 

In recognition of the fact that Eperon d’Or had become the official supplier to both courts, the company made a bold statement by having an administrative front building constructed in front of the existing factory. It was designed in 1930 by Izegem architect Charles Laloo in pure Art Deco style.

Up until the Second World War, the shoes were made by hand, after which part of the process became automated. However, even when the factory finally closed down in 1967 a number  of models were still being made by hand.

Sadly, due to fierce competition, mainly from Italy and Eastern Europe, Eperon d’Or was declared bankrupt in 1967.

The above treasures were all made here and I'm sure you'll agree they are absolutely stunning.

And this is my very own pair of Eperon d'Or shoes! 

I bought them from a long-gone vintage shop about ten years ago, but only found out they were from this particular factory after we'd made plans to visit and, just out of curiosity, had a proper look at the pairs of vintage shoes which are living at the bottom of my wardrobe! 

Back on the ground floor, our visit still wasn't finished. 

Another temporary exhibition is currently running here, called Eigen Kweek (transl. Home-grown) which showcases the work of Belgian shoe designers.

The boots on the bottom right were instantly recognizable as being by Walter Van Beirendonck, while I photographed the Dries Van Noten shoes especially for Sheila. Both fashion designers were part of the famous Antwerp Six who graduated from the Antwerp Fashion Academy in 1982.

Finally, there was the factory hall at the back of the building, where, illustrated by a complete production line, one can learn how shoes were made in the 1950s as well as get acquainted with various kinds of leather, some of which I'd never even imagined existed.

All in all, our visit lasted almost two hours. Then, after purchasing some booklets about the shoe and brush industry from the museum shop, we returned to our car, ravenously eating the sandwiches we'd packed that morning.

But not before making some more photographs of that iconic building.

The building consists of a concrete skeleton finished with bricks. A striking feature of the two-storey façade is the staggered placement of the windows on the first floor. The tower on the corner contains the stairwell and is characterized by an open dome and vertical skylights.

The closing down of the factory was followed by its inevitable decline, but thankfully the front building was listed in 1999. The city of Izegem purchased the building in 2005 and opened the site as a museum in 2017.

But for how long?

Just weeks after our visit, I was scrolling through Instagram while on my way home, when a post from Eperon d'Or came up, announcing the fact that from the 1st of January 2026, it will no longer be run as a museum, and that seven members of staff are facing redundancy. 

The city council's decision came as a bolt out of the blue, and there has been a lot of protest, a petition - which obviously I signed - and a protest demonstration attended by 500 heritage enthusiasts, volunteers, and supporters last Saturday.

Will this be enough to make the city council reconsider its decision?

The forecasted rain arrived when we were on our way back to the cottage but had thankfully been chased away by sunshine and blue skies by late afternoon. 

You've already caught a glimpse of my skirt while I was trying on shoes. In fact, you've already seen me wearing it on the day of our little French adventure. The blue t-shirt with its three-quarter sleeves was charity shopped back in the mists of time, and picks up the blue flowers in the skirt's pattern perfectly.

So, that's it for now. I've still got one episode of my travelogue up my sleeve and hope you'll join me again in a couple of days' time.

Last of the summer frocks

What with our week away and its preparations, I completely forgot to show you what I found at Think Twice the week before we left.

As their final sales week coincided with our holiday, I missed the best bargains, but still managed to pick up a couple of things on their € 5 day.

First up is this burgundy handbag, which has a detachable shoulder strap, and is surprisingly roomy.
I love the trellis pattern on the front panel and the decorative metal details at the base of the handles.

I was attracted by the print and colours of this crepe blouse, or light jacket if you like, and when I saw it came with a tiny pearly brooch, of course it had to be mine!

This sleeveless floral frock is vintage St. Michaels. The fabric is a thin, floaty cotton, and as you can see it is lined. As the weather has turned and it looks like we are well and truly on the slippery slope to Autumn, its first wear will probably have to wait until next year.

The second dress I picked up is this psychedelic pussy bow dress, in an unusual mustard and and lilac colour combination. With its long sleeves but fairly lightweight fabric, it's a welcome addition to my transitional wardrobe, to be worn as Autumn trundles towards Winter. Admittedly, the fabric feels a bit clingy, so I'll have to wear it with a slip underneath.

I've left the best for last! Laying eyes on this halterneck maxi, my thoughts immediately went to Vix.

The fabric is a sturdy cotton, it's got a vibrant print, and it's exactly the right length as long as I'm wearing it with heels. Oh, and it's from Finnish label Chix-Puku.

After we'd just had a couple of hot days, it had cooled down considerably, so posing in the garden after work was a goose-bumpy affair. The things a blogger has to do!

By the state of things, this frock too will have to be put away for next Summer ...

Fast forward one week until Saturday before last. Being back home after a welcome week away felt like an anti-climax, especially as the weather was behaving particularly erratically.

For our weekly charity shopping trip, I chose a hand-made, short-sleeved dress, its print featuring hues of brown and orange and creating a diamond pattern. The dress has a notched collar and closes with two self-fabric buttons at the yoke.

I piled on some sunshine in the form of ochre yellow beads, belt and cardigan. My choice of brooch was a mottled brown plastic butterfly, bought at a flea market last January.

It was chilly so I wore 15 den tights, and a long red Trevira coat. Some more sunshine was provided by a yellow chiffon scarf printed with tiny white dots.

I bought a couple of novels to add to my never ending reading pile and took pity on this vintage ceramic nutmeg canister, which must have been part of a set. Sadly, this was all that was left.

I particularly love its unusual green and yellow colour scheme. And look: it has already found its place in our kitchen with some other odds, ends and orphans!

A pair of polka dot shoes and another wicker handbag for my collection were my other finds. Please bear with me, as you get to see them in Sunday's outfit ...

Our most local charity shop yielded this Tweed jacket for Jos, who wanted his share of the limelight!

Hats and flat caps, a man bag, a Tweed jacket. Whatever's next?  Mr. Suave, indeed!

The turning of the leaves means the return of the indoor flea markets, and we were eagerly looking forward to our favourite one in Mechelen on Sunday.

We went with my friend Inez and her daughter Isabelle, who blogged about her experience here, but I completely forgot to take photographs.

I was wearing another one of my favourite frocks, which much to my surprise hadn't been worn yet this Summer.  The black of the dress is enhanced by the colours of the print, and in particular the vibrant orange flowers.

I picked a green cardie and orange and blue accessories and wore my hounds-tooth jacket with an orange belt.

You can also see the shoes and handbag I picked up on Saturday!

The dress is short-sleeved, has a Peter Pan collar and a row of sky blue loops and buttons at the front.

It is probably hard to believe that the buttons aren't the originals.  When I picked it up at Think Twice it only had three or four random white metal ball buttons left.  As I didn't have anything remotely appropriate in my vintage button stash, I had no choice but to go retail, spending a whole lunch break in the shop and in the end selecting these blue ones with a metal rim. They were far more expensive than the dress itself.

Although the flea market was not yet in its full capacity, we still managed to find things, like these sturdy and unworn leather slingbacks, a vintage corduroy hat and the largest of the celluloid Edelweiss brooches, so that I now have them in four different sizes.

Jos was seduced by this Bakelite phone,  manufactured by ATEA, which has a crank instead of a dial. The seller told us it came from a local nunnery, which had closed down.

My final purchase was this book on handbags (tassen or handtassen in Dutch). From the same series, I already have a book on shoes and one on hats.

Together with the books on the bottom, which I bought a couple of weeks ago, it will be added to my ever growing vintage fashion library! 

The book on the right, by the way, How to Read a Dress, by Lydia Edwards, is fairly new, and came recommended by the lovely Cate, so when I happened to see it in a local shop, I wasted no time and bought it.

Linking to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style!

In my next post, I'll continue my travelogue with a visit to the Belgian seaside, on which I hope you'll join me again.

This town has dragged me down

Having lived in Antwerp for nearly 15 years and been commuting to it for another 23, has somewhat dulled my senses to the city's charms.

On sunny days, my daily commute can be a small delight, the sunlight spotlighting even the ugliest of buildings, so that I'm itching to take out my camera and start snapping away.

Even the sometimes grating juxtaposition of old and new, the result of years of madness and bad planning, can look charming when the timid morning sunshine is casting its soft glow.

On dark winter days, which are numbing the mind, it's much harder to find charm in my day-to-day surroundings.

The dirty concrete, the endless stream of traffic, the clanging trams and honking cars and the plaintive wailing of emergeny sirens aren't exactly soothing for the soul.

Then, it's a hostile world out there, on which I would like to close the curtains for a day.












But negativity doesn't get one anywhere so, even when the rain is falling down in buckets, I often use my camera as therapy during lunch break.

If you care to look, and look hard enough, there's beauty to be discovered everywhere, even in the most boring of shopping centres.

If I'm having a rubbish day, the next best thing to some vintage shopping is taking my camera and walking around the city streets, playing at being a tourist, trying to see it all as if for the first time.

Never venturing too far away, though, as I only have a 45 minute lunch break!

Just a five minute walk takes me to Antwerp's Gothic cathedral.

Here, I am joining the hordes of tourists admiring the magnificent carvings above the main entrance, depicting the Last Judgment.

Amazingly, they were only added between 1903 and 1906.

A less than ten minute walk in another direction takes me to one of Antwerp's exclusive shopping areas, which is dominated by the Bourla theatre. This neoclassical building was designed in 1827 by city architect Pierre Bourla, its construction finished in 1834.

As I was having a bit of an off-week, I was glad that Friday finally came around. In spite of the weatherman's promise that it would be sunny, the day was as grey as its predecessors, and we were even treated to a light dusting of snow.

But I had the afternoon off, and met my friends Inez and Kris for coffee at our usual haunt, De Lantaren, a cozy coffee shop tucked away in a side street not far from Antwerp's Grote Markt.

After a quick catch-up on each other's lives and a good old-fashioned gossiping session, Inez and I said goodbye to Kris, and continued the afternoon with some vintage shopping.

It was the first day of the sales at Think Twice, our favourite chain of vintage shops, and everything was 30% off.

Nevertheless, I only bought two items: an almost pristine pair of shiny black open heeled shoes, and a short-sleeved green Tricel jumper closing with a zip at the back. Look at those cute little bows on the front!

Here's to hoping for a more sunny outlook next week, and some blue skies outside my office window.

Until then, I seem to be providing the only bit of colour in a sea of grey ...

A little peek inside my wardrobe

Last Wednesday, I had an unexpected day off, as it was Yom Kippur (my boss is Jewish), which meant we were not allowed to come into work. It's an extra day we get on top of our regular vacation days, so who was I to complain? In fact, I immediately knew how I would spend the day.

It was time again for the biannual great wardrobe switch! I'd already made a half hearted start, but apart from freeing up some hanging space by putting away my sleeveless summer dresses, I hadn't gotten very far.  Wednesday turned out to be a dismal day, making it the perfect weather for what I had in mind.

 A word of warning, though: if you  prefer a minimalist wardrobe, this will be a shock to the system!

After breakfast, I took out the majority of my summer dresses, leaving only a couple of thicker ones which I might still wear, as well as anything which is a nightmare to iron and which I prefer to keep on their hangers all year round. I folded the others and made neat piles ready for putting into vacuum bags.

Then, it was time to open the huge linen chest, which used to belong to Jos's grandparents, and which we use to store out of season clothes. I took out all the bags containing my long-sleeved dresses, leaving only a bag of heavy woollen ones, as well as a bag of jumpers, which I'll tackle on a later date.

Opening the bags usually yields one or two surprises: dresses I had half or even completely forgotten about.  Anything that no longer appeals is discarded and things I remember being a close fit are tried on and put aside for now if they are too snug.

Eventually, the bed ended up completely covered in dresses, after which I could start the more enjoyable task of hanging them up. By colour, obviously. Yes, I am a nerd like that, but it really makes life easier.

There, that's better, isn't it?

Admittedly, they are packed too closely together, so maybe I should get rid of some more ...












By now, I think it’s time I told you about my vintage wardrobe. Not the clothes, mind you, you are seeing quite enough of those already, but my actual wardrobe or closet.

For many years, my husband and I had side-by-side identical pine IKEA wardrobes. When I look at the size of them now, I'm wondering how mine could have contained all my clothes, as it is way too small.

I do have another wardrobe tucked away in our spare room, one I’ve had since I first left home in the early eighties, as well as a rickety chest of drawers for all the smaller stuff, but still ...

Since I started buying and wearing vintage frocks, I ran out of space very quickly, but I had very specific requirements as to what my “dream wardrobe” should be like. What I needed was less shelving and more hanging space.

I also wanted the wardrobe to be a vintage one so, armed with the necessary measurements, we spent our Saturdays visiting charity shop after charity shop in search of the elusive wardrobe.

Finally, in early March of last year, we spotted the wardrobe at the ridiculous price of € 65.

















The main part of the wardrobe, with its bow-fronted doors, opens to a full rail of hanging space.

The side doors, which are adorned with carved flower panels, hide additional hanging space on the left and shelving on the right, and there's even a drawer under one of the shelves which is perfect for accessories!

The only thing missing was a shelf above the hanging space in the main part of the wardrobe, originally meant for storing hats. That was soon righted, however, as we found just the right kind of shelf in in another charity shop a couple of weeks later. It only needed shortening, and it's now holding my smaller handbags.

My original wardrobe has been put to good use too. It now lives in the spare room and is holding our coats and jackets. It would definitely benefit from a clear-out, as there are some that haven't been worn for years. And I am not the only guilty one here ...

Although I was knackered after all the switching around, I still decided to tackle my shoes as well. Out with the frivolous summer shoes and sandals, and in with the winter shoes and boots. They are stored in the spare room too, in a tower of IKEA shoe boxes, which neatly open at the front.

I guess I'm all ready for autumn and winter now!

Before I sign off, there is something that puts all this into perspective. Two days after I wrote this post, I logged into my Facebook account, only to be confronted by the terrible news that our friend and fellow blogger Jessica Cangiano of the fabulous Chronically Vintage blog, was hit by a devastating tragedy, losing her house and all its contents in a house fire.

If you would like to help Jessica and her husband Tony get back on their feet, please have a look at the You Caring page and the Facebook page which have been set up.