I’d like to nominate Star Child shoes for the very first department of WIN award.

What’s the department of WIN?

Well, some time ago I wrote a blog post, Breeched from Birth, looking at how we use children’s clothing right from birth to push them into gender stereotypes.

I mused on why children’s clothes needed to be segregated into “girl” and “boy” clothes seeing as the basic shape of children is the same until puberty begins. Why couldn’t clothes for children just be organised by category, e.g. babygro, trouser, skirt, jumper etc.?

That would be a start, but I would also like to see less frillyfication of girls’ clothing (it gets to the point where the garment is impractical as the frills don’t wash well) and less, erm, blokification of boys’ clothing (“mummy’s little soldier” etc.) too.

I got chatting to Anji about it and she had the idea of coming up with a department of WIN, a department of FAIL (o hai Tesco!) and I wouldn’t mind a department of MEH too but maybe that’s pushing it!

So how to define WIN? Personally, I think in order to WIN a clothing shop, whether online or in real life, needs to meet at least two of the following criteria (and to get a MEH would meet just one, to get a FAIL would meet none):

1)      Clothes are separated by garment type or other way that isn’t based on gender

2)      No clothes that are so flimsy as to be impractical; no clothes that glorify violence (especially not if these are showcased as “girl” and “boy” respectively)

3)      Pictures of children in the clothes that include boys that aren’t wearing blue, grey, dark green or brown, and girls that aren’t wearing pink, purple or lilac.

But that’s just a rough idea. Any additions or subtractions are welcome. Of course, it also helps if the clothes wash well, are reasonably priced, do not use sweatshop labour to produce them, are environmentally responsible and so on.

Anyway without further ado onto Star Child shoes.

I was looking for some shoes for Bertie (my two year old) for a wedding. He was going in a maroon pair of flairs with maroon cravat and waistcoat and a white shirt (all from charity shops). I wanted something smart but quirky. I scoured the shops and found only clunky, ugly looking shoes, or incredibly flimsy, impractical looking shoes (can you guess which was intended for boys and which for girls?)

Via the natural parenting magazine Juno, I happened upon a company called Star Child shoes. Not only are the shoes organised by style (and not boy/girl) but they come in a wonderfully diverse range of colours and patterns, whilst all being the same basic shape.

They are also incredibly practical in that they are more like slippers, but with a solid suede base so they are not particularly slippery. They also allow a lot of room for feet to stretch; despite what the likes of Clarks might tell you to get you to part with your £20+, less is often more when it comes to shoes (with bare feet being best of all).

The price? Well, they’re not amazingly cheap, weighing in at around £17 a pair, but unlike shoes that come in sizes (e.g. 4, 5, 6) they come in months, so your child’s feet grow into them and they last about six months.

They are handmade in the UK, and use non-toxic dyes (you know how kids love to suck their feet).

And, you can fling them in the washing machine on a low heat (although, I did notice the dye did run a little on Bertie’s shoes, so take care to wash with other similar colours) and even when they dry (not in a tumble drier) they are still soft and pliable.

The one thing that does concern me is that the shoes have leather uppers, which is not an option for the majority of vegetarians and vegans.

Back to the beginning though, the thing I’m most impressed by is the sheer range of styles and the fact none of them are listed as “perfect for your little princess / soldier”. They feature styles that children love (bright, colourful, pictures of vehicles, animals and confectionary) and they don’t shoehorn (pun intended) children into stereotypical gender roles.

Star Child shoes = WIN!

(Well, you wanted to see the shoes on, didn’t you?)

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