Sunday, September 26, 2010

The Lady that Lives in a Shoe

You can feel the summer slowly coming to an end. The morning air begins to cool, the birds gathering before making their long journey south and the air fills with the wonderful sound of a credit cards being swept. End of summer always brings my favorite time of the year… end of season SALES. As fall just begins to appear so do all those discount tickets under designer shoes.  I can hear my name being screamed in an Italian accent and am I definitely not the one to resist any foreign temptation, especially any that comes with a discount.
       I still have not broken the disastrous news to any of my friends, especially Sebastian. The remote thought of having an exclusive fashion opportunity missed is just heart-wrenching. Plus I didn’t want to be knocked off the fashion totem pole, I worked too hard and spent too much money trying to get to the top and I wasn’t going to slow down now. I can’t go back to khakis and half-zip sweaters, I know too much now! I don’t understand the North American obsession with khaki pants. Traveling around Europe with my sister we always play the game “Count how many American tourist you can spot.” Trust me it becomes extremely easy since we have adopted the uniform of khaki shorts, cross trainers and the cherry on the cake, a hat. WHY??? Why must we embarrass ourselves when we cross the ocean to Fashion Capital?  If it isn’t the bland color or the oversize drearier that didn’t turn someone on, it has to be those old man pleats in the front. And why is it that every guy believes that the perfect match is t-shirt or golf shirt and a pair of cross trainers. The only things these men are running from are from the fashion police.
I do have a lengthily list of fashion rules I believe every person should obey by, but due to time here are just a few I think every khaki victim should listen to: Rule 1- khakis are to only be found in one of two places a) on the golf course or b) if you work at Best Buy.  Anywhere else there is no absolute need for them, especially if they have 3 pleats in the front.  Here is an extra one to keep in mind as summer slowly comes to an end - Rule 2: Nothing on the trees means nothing above the knees. I’ve made it into a rhyme so anyone can remember it.  Make sure ladies to put a pair of wonderful pattern stockings to cover those pilling legs.
I had already promised Sebastian a fully day of S&G (Shopping And Gossiping…best cardio you could possible get) and I wasn’t going to let a minor sprain stop me from quality time with a friend. Just like any other athlete you work through the pain because you want to win the game. Today’s cardio circuit was “The Room at the Bay,” which is extremely changeling because of all the levels and other athletes that were going to be attending this exclusive event. If you have ever attended a spinning class you know that you must arrive 20 minutes prior to the class or else you end up risking the chance to spend the next hour on the smallest harness. Trust me, even my larger booty with extra stuffing cant handle it. Arriving at the store and seeing other shoppers had the same desire or should I say desperation to get their foot in a sexy Italian skin loafer at a discount price.  Even though I am extremely inpatient and against the concept of lines I knew that behind those large metal door stood Mecca.
      Rows and rows of design item all with the large sign from the gods placed directly in on top of them...50% to 70% off the ticketed item. I’m unsure which will give out first my skinny arms or my maxed out credit cards. After my addiction to purses, comes accessories, then comes dresses, then comes jeans and the finally comes shoes. So you know why I can’t resist a shoe shopping exhibition. Who better didn’t know my addiction to spending then the collection agency at American Express? God even the thought of another phone call from them sends shivers up my spin. I need some therapy and what doesn’t cure a women depression than shoes.
        When you find that perfect shoe, your heart skips a beat as you turn it over and reveal the price. I wonder what people are actually thinking when they pay full price for items.  I on the other hand feel a sense of joy, like a fashion accomplishment when I purchase something on sale, but then it becomes extremely difficult to talk myself out of the 3rd pair of pumps. What seems to only matter in my mind is the words “SALE + Save.” I’m not the greatest at math and that is probably why I can never actually calculate the finally results to that fashion equation to end up with the totally amount owing. I do prefer my method more, it is much simpler “SALE = SAVING.” What would be considered worse leaving empty handed or having a women leave with MY Italian leather loafers and not truly understand the dedication and craftsmanship that goes on behind the heel.
      “How was your date with Hot-Wheels?” Sebastian shouted over the size 8 shoes rack. It was his specialty to create nicknames for all the people we encounter. I think it was just easier for him to remember objects and concentrate all his energy on designer names.  A close friend had recently set me up on a blind date with one of their guy friends...but I am definitely going to contemplate our friendship after gone on the date. Prior to meeting him she had raved about how great of a personality he has and how much fun he is and the closing deal that he is a racecar driver. Now everyone knows that “great personality” is are code word “not the best looker” and fun often equally very boring.  That combination just screams boring date with an ugly and maybe if I played my cards right, fat guy.
       However, the concept of being set up is great thing, it often demonstrates how your friends view you. I’m not saying I’m butt ugly or in need of e-harmony or anything like that...although I wish I was one of those happy couples in the commercials. It provides a glimpse of with how your dearest friends view you, such as if they set you up with a model they think your drop-dead gorgeous and if they set you up with a mountain climber they think your active. But, I didn’t understand how I was being portrayed any longer. Although all my friends know my fetish for automobiles I was starting to wonder what they thought of my appearance. Nothing truly melts my heart more than a slick car pulling up to the curb and you can hear the engine roar. Now I’m not talking about those ‘boys’ with their souped up Honda Civics and their busted tailpipes driving around the Tim Horton’s parking lot. A car to me defines a man’s masculinity and their sophistication in the way they handle the wheel, need I say more! Although I am currently unemployed and broke I can still have standards.
 My friend had sold me on this blind date because of the tantalizing idea of being a passenger to Michael Schumacher. Just the chance to see how a professional handles a high power car turns me on. Now the date began well when I heard the car turning onto my street. The loud roar from a good European muffler started to get my blood pumping. Like any other date, I become a lioness watching my prey from afar waiting for the kill as a peered out my window watch him walk up to my door. I want to make sure that I have the healthiest gazelle to eat; no one likes the leftovers. I myself also like the challenge of the hunt especially when the catch is difficult.
       As he steps out of his two-seater BMW, which I highly approve of, I notice he wasn’t the tallest gazelle. Now I myself cant judge much on height because I am in the first survey check book of 5’1”-5’5”. But height was invented for one reason, to ride those thrilling roller coasters and why else would they invent such a key phrase in history if it doesn’t mean anything of importance…probably because they didn’t want to deflate the male egos, just like that stupid concept that size doesn’t matter. Who ever said that? If size doesn’t matter why would there be the Big and Tall store or Baby Gap. Anyway, it was actually the moment when I opened my front door that I wondered what my friends thought of me.
        “His shoes were atrocious!” I screamed out to Sebastian. How could a dear friend set my with such a violator to both leather and shoes. I couldn’t believe my eyes. How could anyone ever think of buying such a pair of disgusting shoes or even think about putting them on their first date.
            “Ummmm…..I’m unsure about him yet…..the date wasn’t horrible…..he was really polite.” I was rambling trying to disguise my initially blunder, I just hope that he didn’t catch on. I didn’t want to give Sebastian any information to develop an opinion before I have, he has a tendency to force his opinions on others and I was unsure of this particular kill.
        “Ohhh, unsure that doesn’t sound too good. Explain Mamma.” All these beautiful Italian leather loafers just staring me in the face, they knew the catastrophe I experience they could read my soul and I couldn’t lie to them.
         “His credentials almost matched up to an 8. A Sexy car, great personality, a gentlemen, an old fashion romantic and most important he paid the check. But…”
            Like Sebastian he rudely interrupted me before I could even finish. “The ‘but’ the lasting question to if there will be a second date. How big is the ‘but?”
         “Well, there are actually 2 cheeks to this ‘butt’!” We both snickered at my lame attempt to make fun of my situation. “Alright! First, he isn’t the tallest guy I’ve ever dated, BUT I was in complete shock when I opened the door and saw that he was wearing my grandfathers loafers.”
        All I could see were Sebastian’s eyes peering over the Tory Burch wooden clogs that came out this summer.  A sparkly twinkled in the concern of his eye, and I knew he had some ridiculous comment processing in his head.           
 “You could always buy Hot-Wheels a pair of platform Guccis. It would solve the problem of the ugly shoe disaster and give him an extra inch on you.”
       Now what would be worse telling Sebastian, that I’m completely broke and barely knew if the shoes I had picked out were going to be approved on my emergency Visa or that not even a pair of platform would solve Hot-Wheels problems.
        “What’s the big deal about the old man loafers? Anyway, you’ve dated worse, MUCH worse don’t you remember Crazy-Hockey Fan. I can still remember catching you walking on King and Front St with some guy with a giant hockey puck on his head. Now if you want to say worse, then there was….”
“OK, I got the point,” leave it to Sebastian to remind me of my horrible dating life.  “Why do I even have to remind you about the importance of guys and their shoes. Shoes, watches and cars are the defining factor to their personal sense of style. If a guy has the ability to make the wrong move and choose a bad pair of shoes than he also has the ability of choosing an ugly girl or even worse have all the wrong moves. And I for one do not want to wait around and see which choice Hot-Wheels decides on.”
OMG! You always have the best analogies. But since you haven’t had a prospect in weeks or should I say since December 17th, I think you should give Hot-Wheels a chance. Maybe you can suggest bowling as the next date. At least you know you both will have hideous footwear on.”

 Even though he had completely insulted me I couldn’t help but laugh. I just hope that I wouldn’t start crying when I handed the 3 pair of high heels I needed to add to my already enormous shoe collection. I hated that feeling when you approach the checkout. The anticipation waiting for the Sales Associate to lean over the counter and ask you to sign the receipt or whether she was going to say those horrific words, “Your card was declined.” Why did I feel like they are the gatekeeper to heaven and I’m confessing all the sins I have committed throughout my life. I just hope this one time that I’m finally accepted into shoe heaven. Then to finish off the whole humiliating situation they give you that look like they are so much better than you are, like they always pay their bills on time and they have a job. I believe that it is time for the consumer to start becoming more empowered. We are the ones that give these snobby sale associates their jobs; if it wasn’t for our shopping addiction these girls would be homeless. I just hope I find a job before I become the lady that lives in a shoe. At least it will be a Gucci rather than an old man loafer!

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