Friday, October 17, 2008


This is a writing task I am given, but I'll publish it anyway :-)

My long term fling with footwear started long before my first crush (And my first crush was kind of premature when I was a little over half a decade)

From White Sandak sandals that reinvented themselves as off-whitish brown over a short period of hard use to the deliciously red suede Birkis that I am currently wearing, my love for shoes explored new paths and evolved as a complete and mature facet of mine.( Now I wish I'd said the same about the other more significant facets of mine)

The "complete and mature facet" part is open for debate though, as not so long ago, I'd had a lemming for a pair of metallic neon green Birkis dressed in chunky white and blue rhinestones and those twinkles sporting 'Swarowsky' name on their sleeves didn't in the littlest bit spruce up the "pre-teen fashion Blunder" look. Nor did the legendarily sexy Heidi Klum's name associated with the pair of sandals did.

After window shopping in the windows of my window to the world, I finally clicked the big and bold "complete my order" button.

In less than a week I was walking around in my lounge wear and a pair of the most noticeable accessories known to the human kind suffocating my dainty feet. My feet, the only part of me that did'nt look seriously post 'post partum' but thanks to Heidi Klum's imagination, they matched in with the rest of my being ! Not just that, I looked like the infamous Bjork in her swan outfit walking down the red carpet.

A good reason for models to showcase their bods instead of their design sense is the fact that the decoration on the gaudy leather made the sandals look like the illegitimate child of classic birkis and Joan river's fashion jewelry - the line that the designer hawks on QVC.

I bailed myself out of the fashion blunder by bidding adieu to the specimens of art, entrusting them in the insured hands of the USPS. The free return label provided was a great consolation.

The "de-retail" therapy worked like a charm. Once in a while if my foot-fashion sense suffers a sprain, I am thankful to the good old USA's "no questions asked" return policy.