I spent a time today, chasing down shoes of an altogether spectacular nature, to cleanse my palette of perverts and ghosts. Here, a selection of shoes, simultaneously icky and yet mystifyingly desirable. Now if only the perverted ghost of my finances would return...
If ever there were a shoe for a modern-day Athena, these might be it. At first, I was shocked by their revolting, Teva-like tendencies, but later resolved to love them and treat them as a breezy high-top. Now I'm determined that the right pair of slouchy, cropped slacks; a loose-fitting, graphic-printed racer-back tank, a short sequinned vest and a jaunty chapeau are just the things to take these from crunchy to crunk.
I'll admit it. I kinda hate the huge, platform heels that proliferate the hooves of every large-glasses wearing celebrity. They seem like the giant, buoyant false breasts of the shoe world. These, however, are ahhht dahling, of the highest kind. These I prescribe a white, pin-up style bikini and a dressing kimono of the old Hollywood kind.
If one could meld the shoe lusts of Rumi and Sal, out would pop these delectables. Architectural, towering, aggressive, sexy, these are the kind of shoes whose sole purpose is for stamping out your cigarette butt before you calmly and confidently walk away from a building that is about to explode. Or they could definitely be used to add increasing pressure to the accelerator of an Aston Martin as you launch it from one end of a rising drawbridge to the other... to get to the library before they close because they're the only branch in town with a copy of The Haunting of Hill House on the shelves...
Back to work,