Report: You Can Get Into The Surf Club Wearing Aquatic Toe Shoes But Not These Tasteful Chanel Sandals

ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact

A woman walked into the Lake Betoota Surf Life Saving Club last Friday evening wearing what the international fashion press is calling a "barefoot heel cap sandal," a $3,000 confection from Chanel's Cruise 2027 collection that covers, by the most generous estimate, eleven percent of the human foot. She was turned away at the door like it was the 50s.

Moments later, a gentleman whose Vibram FiveFingers aquatic toe shoes appeared to have been retrieved from a foot freak's erotic daydream, walked straight through. No dramas. Enjoy your schnitzel, you fat prick.

The Advocate has long resisted the urge to describe Queensland surf clubs as culturally backward. We have, on multiple occasions, defended the institution against exactly this kind of characterisation. We are finding it increasingly difficult to continue, despite their generous support.

The Chanel sandal, for those unfamiliar, leaves the entire foot exposed save for a small heel structure and two thin ankle straps. Creative director Matthieu Blazy has described it as "intentionally incomplete" and if that confuses you, hush you worthless bogan, you. Elle magazine called it daring. The door supervisor at Lake Betoota called it "not shoes, I can see your foot fingers and they're cute." What passed muster, apparently, was five individual rubber toe sheaths fused to a contoured sole, a garment that makes the wearer look like they are fucked in the head. These are shoes in the same way that a disposable poncho is a Drizabone.

Yet here we are. The Chanel heel cap, debuted before our Nicole and some Kardashian in the south of France, is insufficient. The Vibram FiveFinger, beloved of men who are on lists or if they're not, probably should be.

One can only conclude that the Lake Betoota Surf Life Saving Club's dress code was not written with aesthetics in mind. It was written to exclude a very specific type of person. The fashionable woman. The metrosexual with a Labor-voting father who wouldn't flog him with jumper cables for wearing women's shoes. The homosexual who has put some thought into his evening. All turned away, while whoever just came off a paddle board and couldn't be bothered changing is waved through without a second glance.

This is not a debate about footwear. It is a debate about who these institutions believe deserves a cold beer with an ocean view. And until a rubber toe sock and a Chanel heel are evaluated on equal terms, the answer remains the same. Not you, love. Not you.