The Great Shoe Saga
The current state of footwear upsets me so much that I can barely speak.
Every autumn for the past three or four years, I have sought out a pair of Cool-Looking Black Leather Ankle Boots With Little Or No Heel.
The series of events that led to this system was deceptively simple. I wandered into a random Nine West and saw a pair of cool-looking boots on sale for $20. I almost didn’t buy them, so naïve was I back then.
“Oh, I’ll just wait until the fall and see what new styles come out at that time. How hard can it be to find a decent pair of Cool-Looking Black Leather Ankle Boots With Little Or No Heel?”
The friend that I was shopping with urged me to reconsider. I did, and purchased the boots.
And, ladies and gentlemen, if I could go back in time and redo ten minutes of my life, it would not be the ten minutes during which I walked into a wall face first and left a permanent scar on my eyebrow, or the ten minutes during which I farted at an “inopportune” time with my boyfriend, or even ten minutes in the middle of having my wisdom teeth pulled.
No, it would be the ten minutes during which I did not purchase at least half a dozen pairs of the perfect Cool-Looking Black Leather Ankle Boots With Little Or No Heel That Were Incredibly Comfortable And Were On Sale For Only $20.
I wore my lone pair almost every single day. They felt like velvet wrapped around my feet. Everywhere I went, women stopped me and complimented me on the boots, wanting to know where I’d gotten them. I wore them and wore them and wore them until the zipper on the right one finally gave. I figured I’d just pop into a local shoe store and buy another pair of Cool-Looking Black Leather Ankle Boots With Little Or No Heel. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! While I could easily find rhinestone-encrused red leather stiletto thigh-highs, lilac suede ankle boots, lace-up black leather high boots suitable for living on a prairie in the 1800’s but a little bit impractical for running out to the bank or the grocery store given the eighteen holes that needed constant relacing, turquoise snow boots, and black leather ankle boots with sufficient padding and support that a 170-year-old woman could easily play soccer in them, there were no Cool-Looking Black Leather Ankle Boots With Little Or No Heel. NONE.
I brought the broken boots to a shoemaker, who wanted the contents of my wallet, my car, an all-expenses-paid vacation to the Caribbean, a home-cooked meal, a pint of my blood, and my first two children in exchange for fixing the zipper.
“But the shoes were only $20,” I whined, realizing the enormity of my mistake.
And, ever since then, I have been searching for a comparable pair. I’ve owned The Pair Too Stylish for a 170-Year-Old Woman But Suitable for a 140-Year Old Woman, The Pair With The Sole That Wore Out After Only 1 Month Thereby Allowing In All The Rainwater, and, currently, The Pair That Looks Decent And Feels Good But Pushes Down Every Pair Of Socks.
Every autumn for the past three or four years, I have sought out a pair of Cool-Looking Black Leather Ankle Boots With Little Or No Heel.
The series of events that led to this system was deceptively simple. I wandered into a random Nine West and saw a pair of cool-looking boots on sale for $20. I almost didn’t buy them, so naïve was I back then.
“Oh, I’ll just wait until the fall and see what new styles come out at that time. How hard can it be to find a decent pair of Cool-Looking Black Leather Ankle Boots With Little Or No Heel?”
The friend that I was shopping with urged me to reconsider. I did, and purchased the boots.
And, ladies and gentlemen, if I could go back in time and redo ten minutes of my life, it would not be the ten minutes during which I walked into a wall face first and left a permanent scar on my eyebrow, or the ten minutes during which I farted at an “inopportune” time with my boyfriend, or even ten minutes in the middle of having my wisdom teeth pulled.
No, it would be the ten minutes during which I did not purchase at least half a dozen pairs of the perfect Cool-Looking Black Leather Ankle Boots With Little Or No Heel That Were Incredibly Comfortable And Were On Sale For Only $20.
I wore my lone pair almost every single day. They felt like velvet wrapped around my feet. Everywhere I went, women stopped me and complimented me on the boots, wanting to know where I’d gotten them. I wore them and wore them and wore them until the zipper on the right one finally gave. I figured I’d just pop into a local shoe store and buy another pair of Cool-Looking Black Leather Ankle Boots With Little Or No Heel. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! While I could easily find rhinestone-encrused red leather stiletto thigh-highs, lilac suede ankle boots, lace-up black leather high boots suitable for living on a prairie in the 1800’s but a little bit impractical for running out to the bank or the grocery store given the eighteen holes that needed constant relacing, turquoise snow boots, and black leather ankle boots with sufficient padding and support that a 170-year-old woman could easily play soccer in them, there were no Cool-Looking Black Leather Ankle Boots With Little Or No Heel. NONE.
I brought the broken boots to a shoemaker, who wanted the contents of my wallet, my car, an all-expenses-paid vacation to the Caribbean, a home-cooked meal, a pint of my blood, and my first two children in exchange for fixing the zipper.
“But the shoes were only $20,” I whined, realizing the enormity of my mistake.
And, ever since then, I have been searching for a comparable pair. I’ve owned The Pair Too Stylish for a 170-Year-Old Woman But Suitable for a 140-Year Old Woman, The Pair With The Sole That Wore Out After Only 1 Month Thereby Allowing In All The Rainwater, and, currently, The Pair That Looks Decent And Feels Good But Pushes Down Every Pair Of Socks.
Copyright 2005-2010 by Arabella and Trattoria Breve. All rights reserved. 9:53 AM
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