To shoe or not to shoe is no longer a matter of choice. All that’s left is the almighty shoe. Shoe here, shoe there, shoe everywhere. Show thy shoes, for they will be the cause of your judgement! Shoes might be a girl’s best friends, together with diamonds, and if we’re talking about diamond shoes even better. But when it comes to a woman, shoes are her pedestal.
Flats, wedges, stilettos, pumps, boots, tennis shoes, sandals, it doesn’t really matter, because the magnitude of the heel is not the measure of the pedestal. Shoes go fairly well with style and even better with a little bit of attitude. You can’t just walk in the shoes. They’re yours only if you make them yours. Nobody else will do it for you, just so you know.
You can tell from a mile whether the relationship between a lady and her shoes is a long-term please & prance, or a just use & abuse (in)commodity. A pair of shoes will respect and care for you and subsequently your lovely feet, soles and toes as long as you show the same dignified respect. The non-believers, pragmatics and overly sarcastic bunches might think that this is a very good metaphorical joke. It actually isn’t!
Now let’s do an exercise of imagination, everyone.
Assume you are, hypothetically speaking, in a shoe store. And not the Al Bundy type of shoe store, but the bright lights, leather smell and well-organized facility. You are completely mesmerized by being surrounded by so many pairs of shoes. Elegant, casual, sport, it doesn’t really matter. It’s your moment on shoe symbiosis.
You try to keep it cool and avoid drooling on the exhibited shoes, but a good woman in “shoe fever” can only take so much. So you start trying them on, and on, and on. It’s a kinda magic, I shit you not! You even receive professional and sincere pieces of advice from the shoe rep.
Not those one. The soles are not looking very good. Ok! I’ll take your word for it, but the electric blue almost convinced me.
Again, hypothetically, you are there having your shoe orgy and he comes along to help you decide.
So which ones do you like best?
Well, the brown ones.
But don’t you have another two pairs?
I do.
So, you don’t need more, right?
Oh, but I do, I really really do!
You can see his face frowning with confusion and misunderstanding, while in your mind an idea is born: Thou shalt not mess with thy neighbour’s right to shoe! Not now, no ever! Amen!
In the end you buy both pairs of shoes. Because you can and you want them. You are smart and sensible enough to know that the whole “I need shoes” discourse meets your need for attention more than your need for shoes.
He is puzzled as you walk out of the store flaunting the shoe bags. You turn to him, smile trying to look for your zen which seems to have gotten lost in-between the shoe try-outs and the frowning, take him by the hand and walk towards right into the sunset. He will get it eventually… hypothetically speaking…
