jeffrey campbell rock me in sweet pink baby
Let's talk about heels for a second. When did your love start? Not with the guy, with the HEELS. For me, that is overly simple to answer. Since my mom is not Diana Ross, and there was no Pandora's box of sumptuous leathers, spunky sequins, or strappy Manolos...I simply resorted to adopting Sarah Jessica Parker as my unbeknownst-to-her mother. Perhaps there was a heel or two beforehand. A modeling photo session wearing a flea market twinset strutting down my neighborhood comes to mind (but like the bad flea markets of the south, not the way its become de rigueur these days...the twinset was baby blue...enough said). And maybe even a kitten heel, which now the sight of such a silhouette makes me audibly cringe, as in near regurgitation and resentment towards all designers who would fail womankind in such a horrid way. Kitten heels are enough of a faux pas for their own blog post another day. A day after I've had some wine and can let the truth be told. I would say vodka, but let's be honest, just the smell of rubbing alcohol alone gets me drunk, that's how lightweight I am.
So for me heels really became a point of infatuation in the late 90s when idolizing Sarah Jessica on Sex and the City was right there on my list of to dos following brush teeth and eat food. Watching that show made me become one with the show and all that fashion is capable of. I coveted heels for the sex appeal. For the extreme instant gratification of confidence adrenaline. For the sake of sliding my foot into something so frivolous in which its very nature reminded me how damn good it is to be a woman.
Don't be fooled though, I still detest most all Manolo Blahniks. Something about the unshakable bond those designs have with culture of the 90s. I find you're either still a Manolo girl or you've evolved into a die hard Louboutin obsessor. I fall into the latter. I don't care for straps, or strappiness, or being strapped up. And I can't fault Carrie for loving her strappy sandals, but I'll take a wedge over straps anyday. That previous comment just gave away my secrets. Basically my lack of fondness for Mr. Manolo is credited only to my true nature of being a Libra. I like BALANCE. Say it with me now: Balance. I want to know my rent is paid, work is in order, and I won't fall down on the red carpet that is life. I love a wedge. I'll cut a witch for a good wedge. Which is exactly what I did. At 10pm. Last night. Fingers blazing.
I renewed my vows with eBay, and it was soooo good.
Have you ever met a girl who loves shoes AND eBay? Okay, and was she single living with cats and collected credit cards the way Octomom collects babies? Because eBay back in the day was a fool's hobby. It was a novel concept that pulled at your wallet for the most basic of necessities. Ah yes, I need a bicycle for less than a grand. Where can I get a vintage car. Let me roll up on eBay and comparison shop some point-and-shoot cameras.
But now? Ah hell no.
Look here. Look what I did. I won these Jeffrey Campbell Rock Me wedges in pink and tan because eBay said, hey girl, I been watching you and I see you like feminine avant garde accessories at chump-change prices, try this piece of candy. So I took a bite. Simply because I just got a check and had more comin from the TAX MAN and thought, what the hell. And also because winter is giving way to Spring and I need a certain engine revving happening. I've been a stale potato chip, living in a bandana and sweatpants. These sweet pink wooden babies have 6 inches to add to my look and after all these years of drooling over heel height online in style blogs and model shoots, its my turn! Only problem is, by staying away from eBay this long (last purchase was 2008) I have kept my sanity, bank account, and wantful lust in check. But now the dormant shoe addiction is awakening. What on Earth have I done. Does this happen to you? Meet me back here in just six months so I can show you what will become of me!