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A faugue is a fake or faux brogue, a broguealike or broguette, if you prefer. I see a lot of these on my travels, and they do not make “a good foot”. They lack gravitas, unlike their ancestor the untanned, untamed, rough hewn, manly shoe of the Scottish Highlands. You cannot wade through bogs in the “faugue”, it is an indoor pump, a dancers shoe, more suited to silently crossing a room to kiss a lady’s hand than collecting a bird carcass at a shoot. They don’t like rain, saturating easily, the thinness of their soles readily curling up in the manner of a sultan’s slipper. My father once said that a man should never economise on his shoes nor his bed – because if he is not in one he is in the other – Say no to faux.

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