Some people dress to fit in. I dress to stand out.
Growing up in a small town where black nail polish was considered rebellious and platform boots were viewed as Halloween costumes, I always felt like I had to tone myself down. That changed when I moved to Melbourne for university. In a city where fashion is expressive and even a little chaotic, I finally had the freedom to be loud, strange, dramatic—me. And that’s where Demonia walked in.
My first pair was a classic: knee-high black platforms with buckle straps running all the way up. I saw them on a girl at a local gig and couldn’t take my eyes off them. She looked like she had walked out of a cyberpunk fairytale. The next day, I spent hours scrolling through options on demonia shoes australia until I found them. The moment they arrived, I slipped them on and honestly… I haven’t looked back.
These boots weren’t just footwear. They were a statement. And surprisingly, they were comfortable. I expected pain, blistered ankles, maybe even a sprain. But Demonia knows what they’re doing—they balance boldness with balance, design with practicality. I’ve danced in them, sprinted for trams in them, and even worn them through the rain. Zero regrets.
My wardrobe quickly followed suit. Out went the basics. In came oversized mesh, vinyl skirts, chained harnesses, and dramatic sleeves. But no matter the outfit, the shoes stayed loud. Whether I was going full-on goth or just spicing up an all-black outfit for coffee with friends, my Demonias were the anchor. They said what I didn’t have to say: that I wasn’t here to be subtle.
The best part? They spark conversations. I’ve made friends at clubs, festivals, and even on campus just because someone complimented my boots. Once, a lecturer actually paused mid-class to ask where I got them. That was awkward, but also kind of iconic.
If I had to pick a favorite style, it would be the platforms with flame embroidery—equal parts hot and heavy. But the truth is, every pair makes me feel a little invincible. A little larger than life. That’s the beauty of Demonia. They’re not trying to make you fit in—they’re giving you tools to be seen, exactly as you are.
Some days, I still hear the small-town voices in my head telling me I look ridiculous. But when I zip up my boots, I remind myself: ridiculous is another word for unforgettable.
And honestly? I’d rather be unforgettable any day.