Black and white photo of script lettering reading Try walking in my shoes on the back of a calf, with the wearer in black high heels.

Try walking in my shoes script on a calf

Lettering · Calf · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows the back of a pair of legs in black high-heeled court shoes, with the lower leg in sharp focus. Black script lettering reading Try walking in my shoes runs across the calf over two lines, with smooth, fine linework and uniform stroke weight. The image is in black and white, with a plain pale background and soft light that keeps attention on the tattoo.

Lettering Calf Script Quote Lettering High heel Shoe Leg

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Come closer, the ones at the back, and mind the loose flagstone by the well. You all know the saying, though none of you were born when the Hollin Cross road still had tarmac on it. My great-great-grandmother kept a cobbler's stall in that market, and over her door she had the saying painted in letters as tall as a man's forearm: Try walking in my shoes.

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Her name was Ysolde Pratt, and she had a rule that nobody believed. Any customer who came in shouting about another person's wrong could take a pair of her fine black heels from the rack, the slim ones with the spikes that clicked on the stone like a clock, and walk them to the far end of the market and back. Walking only. Nobody had to speak. Most came back quiet. A few came back with wet faces. One carter, Dunstan Howe, came back limping and laughing and asked her to mend a sole he had never once thought to mend.

The winter the river froze, a girl came in with a fist full of coins and a face like a shut door. Her sister had gone north with the salt barges and had not written a word. Ysolde handed her the heels without a question. The girl walked the length of the market in the rain, past the shuttered stalls and the dog asleep under the well, and when she reached the bridge she stopped, because the shoes had begun to hurt and she understood, all at once, how long her sister must have been walking too.

She came back at dusk and set the shoes down by the door, one neat beside the other. Ysolde never asked what she had decided. The girl left without them, and they sat there all night, still warm from the stone, clicking softly whenever the wind found the gap under the door.