Barefoot Luxury in the Maldives

By Jim Keeble

Is a naked-toed luxury holiday worth the price of a small compact car? Could you not get a cheap flight to somewhere beachy, take off your shoes, find a wooden cabin and a man to cook you curry, for a fraction of the cost?

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They’ve stolen my shoes. After thirteen hours on a plane, a smiling man has placed them firmly into a bag labelled “No News, No Shoes” and pulled the draw-string tight. I am now barefoot in the Maldives. I feel distinctly uncomfortable. Some people have a thing about their thighs, stomach or numerous chins. Personally, I can’t stand my feet. They’re big and hairy, a combination that’s rarely attractive outside a zoo.

This winter-sun season, “Barefoot Luxury” is the new buzz-word. Every expensively exotic beach holiday worth its sand is describing itself as a purveyor of “Shoeless Chic”, “Sand-In-Your-Toes Simplicity,” “Robinson Crusoe Relaxation”, or “Stripped Tootsy Extravagance”. Okay, I made the last one up, but you get the picture.

There’s even a new tour company called ‘Barefoot Luxury’ whose brochure attempts to sum up the concept:

“As our name implies you may experience the true nature of the places you’re visiting by walking barefoot, but luxury will never be more than a step away."
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