Now I am not one of those women who has to have JUST the right pair of shoes. I often pick my shoes for comfort rather than fashion, regardless of whether the shoes in question “go” with the outfit. I have been known to wear rosy-purple suede sneakers because they are comfortable, despite the fact that my outfit is in shades of blue and green. I see nothing wrong with wearing comfortable flats and white lace anklets or socks decorated with whale silhouettes with my semi-formal black lace, above-the-knee dress. I often have cold feet, and frankly, warm feet are more important to me that being fashionable. I have never really cared what people said about me or my fashion sense.
I am and have always been, just a bit… quirky… (for lack of a better term) fashion wise. But then I dance to the off-key and fraction-too-late-beat of my own drummer in all ways. I have never really worn make-up. I can count on one hand with fingers left over the number of times I have since I turned 30. I am not a flowery girly-girl, preferring instead crisp clean, citrusy scents. If it did not break me out in hives, I would use Royall Lyme as my signature scent. This is only one of many things that cause friends and workmates to shake their heads and silently declare me a lost cause of womanhood.
In college, I broke down and bought a curling iron. I was determined that given the opportunity to re-invent myself I should take it and would do it the Hollywood/media way and began with great plans of waking early and showering, setting and fussing over my hair, make-up and perfect outfit, with matching shoes of course, before heading off to class. Yeah, that lasted less than a week -- until my fencing class where I was fitted for the jacket and mask. Why bother with that stuff when no one would be able to see it behind the screen of the mask, a mask that left me with one of the worst cases of hat-head anyway? The following year, I took swimming as my PE class and, being blessed with a head full of thick, long hair, and a class 45 minutes after I got out of the pool, gave up any hope of making it to class on time if I were to dry it and make myself anything approaching fashion magazine presentable. Yep, it was then that I decided I was a take-me-as-I-am kind of person and the long hair got pulled back fiercely into a tightly braided ponytail and wound still slightly dripping into a bun.
What does this have to do with the shoes my dearest bought me, you ask? I wanted you to have an accurate picture of me and my non-girly-girl-ness. So that when I tell you I have been at this firm for fourteen years, and while I am not the most sociable person here, you’d think after fourteen years, the staff would have an idea of my personality and my tastes. Which is why I could only stare open-mouthed when the receptionist asked to see my new shoes, and upon seeing them, and approving of the fit, commented “He should have gotten you stilettos.”
The totally awesomely cute shoes in question -- won't they look great with a pair of ivory crocheted socks, a black kick-pleat skirt and a cream colored sweater?
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