When in foreign places – in this case, a shop in KLCC – it is best to be adaptable. For instance, right now during Ferragamo’s year-end sale, I have come to accept that women move in amoeba-like pattern, in absolute ignorance of any queue system ever invented.
The moment the shoes of choice have graced the south of one young lady’s feet, sheer orgasm miraculously erupts on her face.
True to form, she now proceeds to the checkout counter with confidence level that rivaled of Sir Lancelot of Camelot, lashes out wads of cash to the grinning face of the cashier, then walks away happy.
In this capitalist world, it is perfectly acceptable for a woman to spend thousands of ringgit on two pairs of shoes. I perhaps would do the same, but for a pair of Christian Louboutin, not Ferragamo mind you.
Until the day I can afford a pair of Louboutin arrives, I remain a lowly dreamer.
Shoes or handbags – the price and label notwithstanding – have a bizarre if not cult effect on women.
I recall the day when I first got my heart broken, a boy had decided to replace me with a curly-haired girl with saucer-size eyes (curly hair? What the hell was he expecting? A Carrie Bradshaw look-alike on bad hair day?).
I was no longer the Skylar of his heart. Boy, that was hard to swallow, my self-esteem took a plunge deeper than the Dead Sea.
But lo and behold, a quick visit to Warehouse boutique in London, gave me the much-needed respite from the torture my heart was suffering from. I grabbed five pairs of sky-high stilettos in hues of colors – simmering black, British royal green, blanched almond, light slate gray and pale turquoise – just for the heck of it.
Then I sat alone over three shots of espresso, sashaying my heels for all and sundry to see, at a coffee shop in downtown Bayswater. I didn’t get a new boyfriend that day, but the happiness I felt, though ephemeral in nature, was priceless.
I don’t blame the writer of Tea & Scones for not getting the equilibrium between women and shoes, but he best not mess with it. Writing a 700-word blog post on it, though in the name of setting the record straight, is a colossal waste of time.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall head to another dangerous place for my money, called Kinokuniya. No, Louboutin has yet to open their signatures store in KL, for that I thank God.
p/s: Yan, what is the camera you think I should get to replace the Canon again? The name completely escaped me. Duh, I am old.