Monday, 30 September 2013

WITH SHOES LIKE THIS, WE HARDLY EVEN NEED FACES

HOW CUTE ARE THESE SHOES? 
The colour! The material! The heel! 
What's that? You don't understand 
what I'm getting so excited about?
Well I don't understand why you get 
so excited about your testicles.




My love for shoes is pretty well established. In fact, it might be more accurately described as an obsession wrapped in a fetish. But I happen to know a young woman whose obsession puts my obsession to shame. 

She has the cutest shoes of any mortal I've ever known, and it's a jolly good thing her feet are tiny or I'd have knocked her to the ground and stolen them right off her feet on more than one occasion. (In my mind, I've done it a million times.)

Luckily for her, she is no longer my co-worker, having snagged an amazing new job as a fashion editor elsewhere in our building. And one day I was wandering the halls, killing time, I'm sure everyone was wondering, "No seriously, where the HELL is Marie?" when I came across a sign that said "The Kit."

Hey! I thought. My little friend! I'll go in and say hello. It'll be an excellent excuse for not being at my workstation. "Oh, I ran into so-and-so! Yeah! She just would NOT stop talking. Oh my look at the time. Coffee break!"
So I walked into the room and was instantly lost in a maze of pink and cubicles. Oh dear, I thought. Where to begin?

And then suddenly, I saw these tiny perfect little feet stretch out, encased in lavender suede. I felt a wave of hot, envious lava course through me and knew that I had found her.
"Hey, you!" I said, and she peeked out from her cubicle.
"Omigod!" she chirped, and we both did that thing women do when they haven't seen each other in ages: we hugged and then we stepped back and looked each other up and down.
"I love your dress!" she said.
"Your hair!" I gushed. "You got bangs, I love it!"
"Your boots! They're so cute!" 
"Those shoes, they're adorable!"
"You like the heel?"
"I love the heel!"


Later, after we'd chatted and I'd taken a picture of her shoes, I went back to my desk and passed it around to all the girls while all the guys smiled that confused, vaguely terrified smile they get when they don't understand what the fuck we're talking about.

See, what guys don’t realize is, sometimes shoes are not just shoes, they’re a statement. A status symbol. A personality. And above all, a safety device. You can never go missing wearing awesome shoes; someone will always remember you. 
“Oh, that chick with the lavender suede shoes and the chunky heels? She went thataway.”
I may just have stumbled across the most crucial scientific finding about shoes ever. 

EDITOR'S NOTE: Oh come on! If shoes are that important, why did you buy me these plain beige loafers for my birthday? No one would ever find me if I went missing in these.
MY NOTE: Heheheh. What a pity I didn't keep the receipt . . .