10 April 2007
10 shoes & the city
i love high heels. there's something magical about walking down the street amidst flurries, swishing your skirt and strutting atop some stilettos.
but stilettos are made for people who own cars and dash into restaurants. people who are at such leisure as to take no more than 8-13 steps at a time. people who will be spending the evening off their feet.
stilettos are not made for writers who have to walk many many blocks and ride trains and walk many many more blocks and then mill about casually sipping cocktails as though their feet weren't screaming all the while. this is a lesson i have yet to learn (damn you, carrie bradshaw).
bee and i went out. there were some kick-ass freaking awesome yellow shoes. for the first two hours, they were like pillows. then there was suddenly the sensation of having a dull razor run across each sole with every step. i wanted to rip them from my feet and thieve walgreen's for a pair of bargain bin keds. i wanted to never see these shoes again. i wanted to never again in my life be so recklessly costumed.
but then, as i was stifling screams and hobbling off the train, a man whom i've never seen before and will probably never see again brushed against me, glanced at my feet, made shy eye-contact and said quietly, "miss, nice shoes."
worth every bloody step.