Last month I wrote my first pair of wedge heels. Now that I’ve been initiated into feeling about three inches taller than I usually am, braved such jokes like…
Do you have a driver’s licence for that? I thought all hazardous transportation needed one!
Do you need a ladder to get onto those each morning?
…I find my mind wandering out of its ‘sensible comfortwear mode’. After all, I reason, if I learnt to get into tight jeans, low-waists, body-huggers and halters, my feet have to follow.
Yesterday I went shopping for some absolute essentials and found myself lingering over the footwear section. I actually walked into a few shops and tried on shoes I’d never wear…..stilettoes, blocks, mules. And to think I was a Bubblegummers kid who breezed through the hip college years in sneakers and floaters. I had to literally tear myself away to stop myself from buying a pair of metallic green noodle-like creations that passed off as sandals. They were beautiful. And useless of course. Not to mention overpriced.
Last week I broke yet another one of my collection of strappy, flat Roman sandals (gladiators, I think they’re called). I found one pair in Bangalore a few years back and wore them all across the city. They were so comfortable, they were, as the ad (for contact lenses) goes…”like wearing nothing at all!” Last year, on my Bangalore trip, I tracked down the shop and picked up no less than 6 pairs of the same design…in different colours. Black travelled with me to Bangkok and Phuket, was mislaid on my way back with my lost luggage and finally came back to me a month late. Brown breathed its last a few months back, White is still alive but with a mysteriously missing buckle. Blue broke last week. Pink is still going strong and my soul colour Red continues to caress my feet all the times I go for the Indian look (that’s my look this summer….cotton kurtas, skirts and chuddidaars).
I’m wearing a pair of mirror-bright silver, strappy sandals to work this morning….waving a peace flag to my battle against bling. I agonise more over whether they’ll cause reflections bright enough to distract motorists and cause accidents…more than how the high heels are screwing my back.
On our post-lunch soujourn, my friend remarks that they remind her of Cinderalla’s sandals. And adds that they should have had glass heels to complete the look.
Yeah, right. All I’ll need is a dinnerplate sized ring then and I can audition for one of the K-serials!
Coming back, we get stuck on the divider, between whizzing cars and stranded in the bright sunlight. She says
This would have been a good time to run!
Not in my Cinderalla sandals!
You could leave one behind and your Prince Charming would find it!!
Ha! More likely an irritated BMC employee who’d fling it in the trash after it was run over!