Tired of always 'saving' my best shoes for some illusive special occasion, I decided it was time to wear a new pair to run mundane errands. Since my fall '09 obsession is clearly ankle booties, I whipped out my brand new 4 inch set and headed out.I had at least 2 hours before I needed to be somewhere, so I began my romp leisurely. When booties are new, the portion of leather just below the outer ankle bone is often stiff, as it has yet to be broken in by shopping trips or walks up and the corporate hallways. Not to worry, I rubbed a bit of Band-Aid Blister Block below my ankle to ease any friction this new booty might create. All was well 90 minutes and 40 blocks worth of errands later, when I spotted a Duane Reade and remembered I needed new shampoo. Thanks to the prime cost of retail space in Manhattan, half of this particular Duane Reade is located downstairs. Of course the escalator was not in service so I was forced onto the stairs (ok, I could use the additional calorie burn of a few steps anyway). I placed one foot delicately in front of the other to descend the staircase, and made it to the bottom with a few angry sighs encouraging me to use more speed at my back. After scouring the ransacked shelves for my brand (Pantene, just like Stacy London) I headed back for the ascent to ground level.
I knew my 2 hours were nearly up, and wanted to avoid the bitter lashes from other shoppers clearly in a hurry to leave Duane Reade. As I made my way up the stairs, I increased my pace one notch above normal. I underestimated the great amount of care it took to stabilize one leg at a time on a teetering 4 inch heel, and as I reached the top 5 steps where the outdoor light of safety greeted me like a helping hand, I missed its grasp and came crashing down onto first a knee, and then finally a thigh and partial butt cheek. Those angry sighs turned to shocked gasps, and a handful of concerned offers for help. No need, I could manage on my own. I stood, hobbled up the last remaining steps and brushed myself off. I surely broke in those booties, just as they broke in my self-esteem.
As a man, I will never understand how women are able to walk around in heels, especially when breaking them in. Just breaking in a new pair of loafers for me is painful enough!
ReplyDeleteNot fun, but very funny to read!
ReplyDeleteThere once was a time when it was fashionable for men to wear heels, accentuating their position of power and authority. However, it's my interpretation of the history of fashion that they were pawned off on women once men realized that heels cause discomfort and other difficulties. Though there are moments when my legs never looked thinner, I can't help but see heels as a rather cruel reality.
ReplyDeleteI agree...I love how they look, but after an entire day of heels I inevitably end up in flats the next day. But I try!
ReplyDeleteI guess you forgot my experience running on a newly rained-on sidewalk in perfect ballet flats? I ended up in the emergency room from which I emerged (many hours later) sporting a sparkling white cast! Ouch!
ReplyDeleteBunnie