Last summer I stood in a muddy field in Derbyshire, watching my favorite sandals slowly disappear into what had been perfectly dry grass just two hours earlier, and I had what can only be described as a footwear existential crisis. The weather app had promised “partly cloudy with sunny spells” – classic British summer meteorological gaslighting, as it turned out. By the time I extracted myself from what was now essentially a bog, my shoes were beyond saving and I was questioning every fashion choice I’d ever made.
This wasn’t even a particularly dramatic weather event, you know? Just your standard British summer day where the sky can’t decide what it wants to be when it grows up. But it got me thinking about how absolutely ridiculous our relationship with summer footwear is on this soggy little island. We spend months each year trying to dress for weather that exists in a constant state of identity crisis, and somehow we act surprised when it all goes wrong.
I mean, think about it – in most places, summer footwear is straightforward. Hot weather equals sandals, maybe some canvas sneakers, done. But here? You need a meteorology degree and a crystal ball just to leave the house without ending up with either swamp feet or blisters from overheating in inappropriate boots.
The thing is, I used to be one of those people who stubbornly refused to adapt to British weather reality. Every May, out would come the strappy sandals and canvas espadrilles, as if sheer optimism could influence atmospheric pressure. I’d spend three months either soaking wet or completely overdressed, muttering about how other countries manage to have actual seasons while we get this weird liminal weather space that exists somewhere between spring and autumn with occasional bursts of Mediterranean confusion.
But here’s what I’ve learned through years of ruined shoes and soggy socks – you can absolutely dress for British summer weather without looking like you’re perpetually prepared for a hiking emergency. You just have to abandon basically everything you think you know about seasonal dressing.
First thing – waterproofing isn’t just for winter boots. I treat literally every pair of shoes I own with protective spray now, even the ones that look completely impractical. That suede pair I thought was too delicate for anything but perfect weather? Protected and ready for whatever chaos the sky decides to throw at us. Those canvas sneakers that used to turn into sponges at the first hint of moisture? Waterproofed and suddenly they’re my most versatile summer shoes.
The brand I swear by is Liquiproof – it’s not cheap but it actually works, unlike some of the budget options I’ve tried that basically just made my shoes smell weird. I learned this the hard way after spending £40 on what was supposedly professional-grade protection that did absolutely nothing during a sudden downpour in Edinburgh. Now I just budget for proper waterproofing as part of buying any new shoes, like getting your phone screen protected.
Anyway, the real game-changer for me was realizing that ankle boots in summer aren’t a fashion crime – they’re actually the most sensible thing you can put on your feet in this country. I know how that sounds, but hear me out. A lightweight leather ankle boot handles everything our weather throws at it. Rain? Fine. Sudden heat? The leather breathes better than you’d think. Random hail in July (because of course)? Completely protected.
I’ve got these Acne Jensen boots that I bought thinking they’d be my autumn-to-winter transition shoes, and they’ve ended up being my most-worn summer footwear. They work with summer dresses, cropped jeans, even shorts if you style them right. The trick is choosing something with clean lines rather than chunky winter boot vibes. You want to look like you made a deliberate choice, not like you checked the weather forecast for the wrong month.
The absolute revelation, though, has been embracing what I guess you’d call “ugly” practical sandals. These sport-style things that I used to associate with tourists and people who’d given up on looking good – turns out they’re having a proper fashion moment, and also they’re perfect for our ridiculous weather. Tevas, Birkenstocks, those Japanese brands like Suicoke that cost more than some people’s rent – they’re all suddenly cool, which is convenient because they’re also incredibly practical.
I felt weird about this at first, I’ll admit. There’s something psychologically challenging about spending real money on sandals that look like medical equipment. But then I wore my Tevas through a day that included blazing sunshine, a sudden thunderstorm, and an impromptu walk through some very dubious-looking puddles, and my feet were comfortable the entire time. Meanwhile, everyone else was either hobbling in soggy canvas shoes or overheating in closed-toe options.
The fashion crowd has completely embraced this too, which makes it feel less like giving up on style and more like being ahead of the trend. When you see people pairing chunky sport sandals with slip dresses and tailored trousers, it stops feeling like a compromise and starts feeling like an intentional choice. Plus there’s something quite liberating about prioritizing comfort and practicality – revolutionary concept, I know.
For the times when sport sandals aren’t appropriate (weddings, work meetings, anything where your gran might be present), I’ve developed a sort of formal-weather-hedge strategy. Block heels rather than stilettos, because stilettos and grass are natural enemies. Closed toes rather than strappy styles, because toes get cold and wet faster than you’d think. Dark colors that hide water stains, because they will happen.
My current go-to for smart summer occasions is this pair of navy suede block heels that I had professionally waterproofed. Cost me £15 at a proper cobbler, best money I ever spent. They’ve survived garden parties, outdoor weddings, and that nightmare work event where we were supposed to have drinks on a terrace but ended up huddled under gazebos while rain came at us sideways.
The key insight I’ve had is that British summer weather requires transitional footwear all the time, not just in spring and autumn. Those in-between shoes that can handle multiple seasons? That’s what we need year-round. The weather here doesn’t really do committed seasons anyway – it just cycles through different combinations of damp, windy, and occasionally sunny.
I’ve also started carrying backup shoes more often, which sounds high-maintenance but is actually quite freeing. Weatherproof boots for getting around, sandals in my bag for when the sun makes a proper appearance. Or practical flats for walking, heels for wherever I’m actually going. It’s like having insurance against meteorological mood swings.
The trainers situation has been trickier to figure out. Canvas ones like Converse look great and feel very summer-appropriate, but they’re essentially useless in wet weather. Leather trainers work better but can get pretty sweaty on genuinely hot days. I’ve found that certain knitted styles – Allbirds, some of the Nike Flyknit ones – dry incredibly quickly and breathe well, making them almost weather-neutral.
What I’ve realized is that successful British summer footwear isn’t really about having perfect shoes for each possible weather scenario. It’s about having shoes that can handle the inevitable combination of scenarios you’ll encounter in any given day. Because that’s what British summer weather actually is – not discrete weather events, but this constantly shifting mix of conditions that requires adaptive rather than seasonal thinking.
The most liberating thing has been abandoning the idea that I need to dress like I live somewhere with reliable seasons. Our weather is unique, and our footwear choices should reflect that reality rather than fighting against it. Summer here means being prepared for anything, and once you accept that, choosing what to put on your feet becomes much less stressful.
So now when I see that familiar “sunny intervals with possible showers” forecast, I don’t panic about footwear decisions anymore. Waterproofed ankle boots with a dress? Absolutely fine. Sport sandals with tailored trousers? Fashion-forward, apparently. The goal isn’t to look like I’m dressing for Mediterranean weather – it’s to look like I understand exactly where I live, and I’m prepared for whatever atmospheric chaos that involves.
Riley’s an environmental consultant in Seattle with strong opinions on greenwashing and fast fashion. She writes about sustainability without the guilt trip—realistic tips, honest brand talk, and a reminder that progress beats perfection.
