But I digress. My plan was to drag an adorable friend out shopping with me in hopes that she would push me to new fashion heights and I would then soar like an eagle into a world of hip tops, trendy pants and sassy shoes. A place where the air is rarified and the champagne is free... oh man, was I dreaming again? I must have been.
Here's what really happened. I wrangle Kyla into devoting a day off to helping me spend Lily Ruth's college fund (I joke - she has no college fund). After she agrees (and we eat our weight in Mexican food for brunch) she lets it slip that since she works in clothing retail, she loathes shopping. Dammit. Now I'm shopping - which I hate - and I'm forcing somebody I really like into doing something that they hate, too. Crap. Maybe the day can still be salvaged.
After a quick coffee run, we agree to hit the LUSH counter at Macy's. Honestly, who could disagree about that? Then we spy the shoe sale... Holy Moley. I had forgotten how much I love shoes. I stood in the midst of jumbled sales racks (right shoes only), and LONGED for a 'real' job so that I would have a reason to buy heels. Then I shook it off and looked for a pair that I could chase an infant in and that were better the slip ons I was currently wearing (functional, but reminescent of slippers) or flip flops - a girl needs variety, and I currently have none. I found these:
and snapped 'em up. Last pair in the house. I will be the most colorful Mama, but alas, not the most stylish...
Kyla wandered the 'fashion forward' areas, and picked up things best described thusly - 'over-the-knee black boots with gladiator cut outs and platform soles' and 'black suede booties with lethal spike heels'. She settled on 'nude platform peep-toe with a buckle over the instep'. I searched desperately for an image of them to post here, but I can't remember who made them, and I got side tracked... now I want THESE:
but I digress...
As the beautiful Kyla tries on said shoes, she does the requisite '5 steps forward, 5 steps back' dance that we all do in order to asses the feasibility of a new shoe. 'Can it work for me?' we ask... 'will I be able to stand for more than 30 seconds at a time?'... as though 10 steps on highly padded carpet will answer these queries! Well, those answers may not be forthcoming, but something else made itself immediately clear - heel slippage. You may or may not have already guessed where this is headed. That's right, Gentle Reader, the damn things 'farted' with every step. I almost wet myself with mirth. Tears sprang into our eyes as we played out immaginary scenes of Kyla 'farting' her way through a work day...
pft pft pft pft pft - 'Yes, I'm the manager on duty. How can I assist you?'
pft pft - 'can it, you guys! Kyla's coming!'
I had a mental picture of her gliding across the blonde wood shop floors. Poised, put-together, pooting with every step...
Can I tell you - we sat in the chairs of the try-on area completely red faced, teary eyed and unable to contain ourselves. It was bliss.
I said that we should consult a professional. 'Professional WHAT?' asks Kyla. 'Professional Farter?' More giggles. More tears. 'Well' I opined 'all men are professional farters, so the salesman should be able to cover any and all bases on this one'. We make our way to the counter, and delicately mention to the gentleman behind the register that we noticed a bit of heel slippage with these particular shoes. Did he think that an insole would solve the issue? 'Yeah, I sort-of noticed you guys while you tried them on' - I almost DIED - 'and I think that would fix it'. Well, OF COURSE he 'noticed' us trying them on!!! We were the ones guffawing in the center of the room. Priceless. You can't make this shit up, folks. It's real life.
We paid for our shoes, and made our way onward - a new pair of shoes each and a memory to cherish.
Here's my moral for today - a good shoe sale is a great thing. A good friend is a true treasure.
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