Archive for the OMG shoes Category

Aaaargh!!! Pesky shoe fetish, be gone!

These shoes are KILLING me. Every time I see them I know my life will not be complete without them. Even though I can’t actually ride in them (and I can ride in some serious heels, yo.) I know that I will be in Barney’s, trying them on for the first time and some NBA star will stop dead in his tracks, stunned by my splendorous height. He will realize that what he’s really always wanted in a woman is to be able to look up into her eyes, to feel puny and fragile in her presence like no other woman has ever made him feel. That is, until he saw me, a 6′ tall amazon in 8″ heels………..

Why is it I love high heels so much? I was born with it, that much I know. I don’t even care that I tower over everyone. I kinda dig it. Sure, it’s lonely at the top, when you want a man you can look up to, at least while barefoot. Some of my earliest memories include drooling over some of the parishoner’s shoes at church when I was just a wee girl. I asked one of the ladies if I could have her Cherokee wedgies when she grew out of them, not realizing that eventually people stop growing (thank god my feet stopped at a 10, or I’d really be screwed). The first time I wore heels out in public is forever etched in my mind, even more clearly (understandably, I suppose) than the first time I got wasted. My best friend Julie’s mom was a swingin’ divorcee in the disco era. She had 2 pairs of hot-shit gold stilletto sandal platforms and let us wear them to the movies (with her along to catch us if we fell) when we were in 5th or 6th grade. it was awesome.

Update, 24 hours later: Well……because everyone knows:

I simply had to swing by Barneys on the way to work from teaching in Van Nuys. It’s not exactly “on the way” but you know. I had to. So I tell the saleslady what I’m looking for, as it’s not on the floor. She brings out a black binder open to the picture of the Shoe. I say “Yes! That’s IT!” and she tells me she doesn’t have it in my size, but disappears for like half a second and comes back saying she can get it from the Dallas store and do I want it in black or brown? Well, being the sensible type I say I want it in any color as long as it’s on sale. (you don’t want to know the price, it’s embarrasing.) It was indeed on sale, 40% off. She brought out a pair in another size so I could at least see them in the flesh. And they were indeed gorgeous.

I almost thought she wasn’t going to sell them to me when I said “Hey! The platform’s not as thick as I thought, I will be able to ride in these after all!” With the tone of a mother protecting her baby, she said “You’re not going to ride in them, are you?!” I promised her I’d wear one of those shifter socks the hip-hop boyz back east always wore over their Tims. So I tell her I’ll call her tonight to pay with a different card, when really this is something I need to think about. I go upstairs and eat lunch at Barney Greengrass with all the fabulous people. And remember the words of Mary, the naughty girl at work who pointed out I’d save 10% by opening a Barney’s charge….And I conveniently forget the 21% APR that comes with a store card, even as it jumps out at me in bold 18pt. type on the application. Then I buy some Khiel’s goodies just to have something in hand (that I did actually need, though maybe not from Khiel’s) and head to work. The shoes arrive on Friday, but I don’t think I’ll take them with me to North Carolina. I prefer to keep a low profile when visiting a place I’ve never been before.

After work, it’s off to help Kellis celebrate his birthday at a Lakers game. Although I didn’t get to wear THOSE shoes, I did wear some kick-ass YSL 6″ heels. And it wasn’t an NBA star, but a fellow fan just as tall who smiled as we passed in the hall and said “Damnnn girl, you’re as tall as me!” “Taller.” I replied with a wink.

Au revoir, Paris

The last day in Paris was a whirlwind. I even had trouble keeping up with myself. I dragged my tired ass from Chatelet to Bastille and back to Marais, shopping till I damn near dropped. Then hopped on the metro to Avenue Montaigne for a little dream fulfillment. Bought the fancy silk stockings Prada featured in their recent ad campaign, that the vendeuse at the Rodeo Drive store had said were completely out of stock, worldwide. Humph! I said to myself. I’m sure they exist somewhere in Paris. Et Voila! Now all I have to do is keep them away from my scuffed-up mitts. I’ll have to wear gloves to put them on.

Finally broke down and bought a real Louis Vuitton purse. Yes, I know, it’s awfully mainstream of me, and it’s not the exact shape that I wanted, but it is pink patent leather. And it was much cheaper than it would have been in LA, which is funny considering everything else here is ten times more expensive. OK, at least two times. But really folks, 2 euros for a measly condom? That’s just crazy. Not like I was using any on this trip (I’m practicing being a “good girl” for my time in Tanzania), but the same taxi driver (the one with all the girlfriends) pointed out how expensive they are, and I was appalled.

So there’s some pix from Paris, an adorable puppy and a very sweet, friendly kitty, who did not want to let go when I picked her up and held her. She did that cute kitty massage thing that cats do with their front paws when they’re super happy. Vale never does that so it was quite wonderful. Had dinner with Marten, Than and Niel at a very funky and delicious cafe, and now I am considering staying awake until I need to get up to go to the airport. I knew I’d be mad at myself for booking a 7:20 AM flight, but hey, c’est la vie. Still no photos, gotta get to a wifi spot that lets me send e-mail. It might be awhile.