I do this thing when I'm dating a guy who is not as tall as I would like him to be: I take steps to make myself shorter. Ridiculous, I know. I'm no giant but at 175cm I am taller than a surprising number of men.
If I hadn't been dating a shorty I would never have bought these shoes. They are a wedge, round toed in black patent leather, fundamentally uninteresting and resemble modernised Nana shoes. The patent is the only marginally redeeming quality. All other attributes I rationalised away. At the time, I was so focused on finding something that would keep me lower to the ground and I could rationalise as a "necessary work purchase". That justification is pathetic and, in my world, the antithesis of any thinking that should go into shoe acquisition. I have no reasonable explanation for my actions. Bad shoe mama, bad.
At the time of purchase I was with my friend Claire simply browsing through a sea of colour, height and loveliness when I plucked out these plain janes.
Claire looked at me quizzically - imagine the expression you would make if you saw a person with two heads - and asked incredulously: "when will you wear them?" I hadn't mentioned short stuff at this time so she had no point of reference for my behaviour. Her question was apt because, unlike most other shoes in my wardrobe, these say nothing. They are mute.
I commenced with a diatribe of nonsense about how I sometimes walk a lot at work yadda yadda yadda. She listened politely but couldn't wipe the confusion off her face. Smart ass.
Now the guy is gone these are my lazy shoes. I wear them for work. I think of them as penance for my ridiculous behaviour.
x
If I hadn't been dating a shorty I would never have bought these shoes. They are a wedge, round toed in black patent leather, fundamentally uninteresting and resemble modernised Nana shoes. The patent is the only marginally redeeming quality. All other attributes I rationalised away. At the time, I was so focused on finding something that would keep me lower to the ground and I could rationalise as a "necessary work purchase". That justification is pathetic and, in my world, the antithesis of any thinking that should go into shoe acquisition. I have no reasonable explanation for my actions. Bad shoe mama, bad.
At the time of purchase I was with my friend Claire simply browsing through a sea of colour, height and loveliness when I plucked out these plain janes.
Claire looked at me quizzically - imagine the expression you would make if you saw a person with two heads - and asked incredulously: "when will you wear them?" I hadn't mentioned short stuff at this time so she had no point of reference for my behaviour. Her question was apt because, unlike most other shoes in my wardrobe, these say nothing. They are mute.
I commenced with a diatribe of nonsense about how I sometimes walk a lot at work yadda yadda yadda. She listened politely but couldn't wipe the confusion off her face. Smart ass.
Now the guy is gone these are my lazy shoes. I wear them for work. I think of them as penance for my ridiculous behaviour.
x
