|Louboutin–oo la la—by foeock via Flickr|
I am not a material girl by any means, but I do have one weakness –– SHOES.
For years, I have dreamed of owning an exquisite pair, be it a design by Jimmy Choo, Manolo Blahnik or the ultimate: Christian Louboutin. The famous six-inch platforms have increased in popularity over the past few years, and fashion mavens become orgasmic when they read or hear the French designer’s name. I can relate.
|Fab Christian Louboutin bootie—by foeock via Flickr|
I’ve never seen so many women in one place with the red-soles as I have in Manhattan. Big surprise, fashion capital of the world, but what’s all of the fuss about anyway? For crying out loud, these are just shoes. Or, are they? Christian Louboutins are like art for the feet, and the modern-day woman is entitled to a splurge every now and then, even if that splurge costs an entire paycheck.
My husband promised to take me shopping recently for a special pair to call my own, and yesterday was my moment. After hours of trying shoe after shoe on Bergdorf’s second floor, we came to one conclusion: I cannot wear Louboutins! I felt like one of the ugly stepsisters in Cinderella trying to get my big, fat, even uglier dancer feet into the most beautifully designed shoes on the planet. Pair after pair, I pushed to squeeze my toes into a size 9 without success. Ugh.
Years of anticipation ended in utter disappointment. Apparently, not every woman in the world can wear Christian Louboutins. His shoes are considered narrow through the toes, and if I am being honest, I didn’t find them very comfortable. But then again, skinny toes make all the difference. Double frown.
|Glam Louboutin with beads— by foeck via Flickr|
I would not allow this minor setback to ruin my moment. I would have to move on, and find another more comfortable, yet haute option that I could walk at least a block in to hail a taxi. (This is the absolute bare minimum when buying stylish and impractical heels, but I usually hope for more like six to eight blocks.) I can’t wrap my head around any woman paying the cost of a mini-vacation for a pair of shoes that she cannot stand in. Maybe I would have sucked it up in my twenties and taken an aspirin, but definitely not in my forties.
After sampling pump after peep-toe from the likes of Jimmy Choo, Giuseppe Vanotti, Brian Atwood, and Yves St. Laurent, an Italian would take the prize. In just a few hours, I learned that my toes are simply too fat for Christian Louboutin, and I am a Fendi girl after all.
|Stunning, yet comfortable –– Fendi!