Wednesday, December 08, 2004


I bought a new dress today for a party I'm attending next week. I was going to wear an old one, but I found this one on sale at 40% off and it looked stunning on. Naturally, I needed shoes to go with it. Store one: nada. Store two: same thing. Store three...

Bear in mind that I have very specific requirements here. I'm not easy to shop for, particularly in the shoe department because I have good taste and very large feet. I needed something cute and strappy to go with the dress, but I also wanted closed toes because I insist on wearing proper hosiery. I could have gotten a pair of strappy winter sandals, but then I wouldn't be able to wear stockings, and in my world that makes you look like a ho. So we need cute, strappy, closed toe, preferably closed heel as well, in a size 10 and reasonable price. Tall order.

Store three: bingo. They have a closed toe and heel, a modest, comfy vamp, a thin T-strap (which will also look stunning with the 1940's style dress I'm wearing to graduation), and a perfect heel (not too high, not to skinny). I began to get warm. I looked for my size. There was the 10, right there on top. My breath was becoming heavy, my pulse rapid. I'm sure my pupils were dialiting by this point. I tried them on. Not only did they fit, they were comfortable. The salesgirl asked if I was all right. I thought she was being helpful, then I realized I was making small moaning sounds. I got the shoes off (they returned the favor momentarily) and took them up to the register, becoming increasingly self-consious of the beads of sweat forming on my chest. I needed to pay for the miracle shoes and get out of there. I got to the register and the sales girl scanned them in. They were half off. I... I... I didn't know... oh, my god... know it could... oh, Oh my GOD!... happen this way! OH, MY GOD!!! AHHHHH!!!


Sal said...



Chaucer's Bitch said...

"Heel." I fixed it. Happy now, Sal?