Thursday, May 8, 2008

Shoe-ing at the Walls of Heartache

You know how you felt when you were a kid and your best friend in the whole wide world – the one who lived within walking distance, who also had a matching Schwinn Sting Ray bicycle with a sparkle-encrusted banana seat and shared your obsession with the Bay City Rollers and baby pink Luv-It jeans – went and left you high and dry in the middle of summer to go on vacation with their totally grody to the max family? Remember how it felt like all the good air had been vacuumed out of the world, like you were bobbing along, a buoy unmoored, on a vast ocean of flat, featureless days, one hand wrapped listlessly around a can of TaB, the other clutching the latest issue of Tiger Beat ("Leif Garrett's Top 5 Romantic Dates!"), but you were unable to muster enthusiasm for either of them because your best friend in the whole wide world wasn't there to share?

Well, that's how I feel when S.B. first leaves on a job. Restless, pouty, channeling my inner Catherine while two states away, S.B.'s inner Heathcliff is busy making the world safe for automatic coffee makers. And playing golf in the afternoons.

Eventually, I do manage to pull my head up off my desk and get back to work. And after work, I begin to realize with burgeoning glee that, hey, lookie there! I also have absolute, unequivocal, TOTAL control of the remote.

But I'll still have my moments. One of them occurred on Tuesday when, after a work appointment, I felt myself missing S.B. so much that the only cure was shoes. And not just any shoes, but shoes with a theme. Which totally goes against my better fashion judgement.

Usually, I stay away from trends. Well, except for those retro '80s cropped pea green parachute pants from the Gap I bought four seasons ago when I was channeling my inner Carrie Bradshaw. And that Trina Turk caftan top a few months ago because resistance to Boho, it seems, is futile. Besides, if nothing else, I can always channel my inner Joan Didion. Or Anne Sexton (but, I assure you,
not my inner Sylvia Plath).

So. Anyway. I went ahead and did it. I bought these.


I figure, I'm running for President. May as well channel my inner Joan of Arc, right? Either that or my inner Patty Smythe: "I am the warrior, and victory is mine. If I survive."


19 comments:

iamnot said...

I can't relate.
I would pay my wife money to go away for a week. If I had enough money, I'd pay her to stay gone.
Are those sandals for a supporting role in "Gladiator II?"

Aunty Belle said...

FAIB U LOUS!

I need a Moi for Presidentress button.

Aunty Belle said...

Uh...doan wear them Fab Shoes up La Luz.

Doris Rose said...

I thought,perhaps tht was an hommage to Charlston Heston. (remind me to tell you about running into him at O'Rourke's Pub)

Doris Rose said...

or *that* was.....Charlton, uurg.

she said...

are you entertained?

ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?
grrrerhahahahaha have a lion and tiger free weekend.

you know trout is 1/2 rhodesian ridgeback? lion killers from south africa. and you know what? i havent had one lion since we got her.

if you need help in the coliseum let me know - i send trouty.

the Dread Pirate Rackham said...

oh you are Killing. Me.

I heart the gladiator sandals. Heart them.

Sadly, the mr. me, has noticed the proliferation of said sandals on others in the world. He never notices shoes -- never. But these? He notices on others...BECAUSE HE HATES THEM!!!

Oh, it's almost grounds for dee-vorce I tell you. How can he hate chariot sandals? They're so Kewl!

Wear them proudly, mah sistah!

moi said...

Another cure for the missing SB blues? Coming on here and reading all y'all's funny-ass comments.

Iamnot: Actually, they're for my Presidency. Outfits play a very significant role in Moi's campaign.

Aunty: I know, I need a button, too. And don't worry, I know which shoes go where :o)

Doris: I loves me some Charlton Heston. Some of the best over-emoting known to the universe. I'll definitely remind you . . .

She: I know, huh? And it was ON HBO the evening after I bought the sandals. A sign, don't cha think? And proof positive that that Kiwi pain in the ass was, at one point, über hot. P.S.: You may have to send Trout. We got cougars in the hills.

Pirate: Oh dear, a gal should never, ever have to choose between domestic bliss and hot shoe fashion. But it does happen. Can ya just do what we did in Junior High and sneak 'em out of the house? 'Cause they're on sale at Dillard's as we speak.

Anonymous Boxer said...

I think I've been married too long... The Mister doesn't travel much and when he does, I start jumping up and down on the couch and buy massive junk food and People magazines. It takes a few days for me to miss him.

OK, back to the sandals.... I love them. Especially the color. They aren't "hippie" ones, but very elegant. I can see them with most everything.......

hmmm... maybe next time I'll forget the junk food and go shoe shopping.

moi said...

AB: I did have a brief, Eric-Cartmanesque moment of asking myself: "Will these sandals make Moi look like Janis Joplin?" Then I decided, non, these sandals will make Moi look like Elle MacPherson. My story. Sticking to it.

The Troll said...

Bang. Bang.

NYD said...

If I could get away on my own for a week I might not find my way back home again...If she went shoe shopping, she might not ever notice.

moi said...

Troll: Hey, you posted on a Fashion Post! See, it's not that painful . . .

nyd: Yes, many women tend to get mighty distracted around shoes. But y'all can use that to your advantage, you know.

ThursdayNext said...

as your future cabinet member of fashionista, i approve those fantabulous shoes. ;)

Wicked Thistle said...

You are such a lovely freak. Those shoes are reminiscent of a certain toga party at e!'s house looooooong, long ago. Perfect then; perfect now. I say put them on and wear them to the Pizza Barn, where they will NOT go unappreciated.

Upset Waitress said...

One thing I DO know about those shoes. You better have pretty feet sister. And by feet I mean the whole foot. Toes included. :) And you best be going places where you don't have to run for your life. Shoes are a perps best friend!!! Oh, those and the baggy parachute pants hehaha. Anyway, those are all pretty and stuff. NOT. Think a waitress foot would fill those in nice? Prolly not. I could club a full grown seal with my footsies. Hmmmph. You are brave to wear them. By that I mean, OMG what are you thinking? :) What in the world would you wear them with? Unless of course you are a belly dancer. No they go barefoot I think. Hmmmmm? I'm still chuckling. Sorry. EhaHA I think I made my point. Them some ugly shoes! hehe

I have got to laugh at iamnot's comment. Oh dear!

Meghan said...

Oh, my dearest Moi... those Greek Goddess shoes were meant to be worn by you! I love and covet them.

moi said...

Thursday: Whew. I should probably remember to pass everything by you first, though, huh?

Wicked: Gah, I have a very vague memory of that toga party. Was I there? I can't remember. Is that the party where you and I slow danced? Oy. The years, they slip by.

Upset: Yes, I have spent a couple hours in my closet since, thinking, "What in the holy frig am I going to wear with these?" But I had to have them. I had coupons. They were on sale. And besides, I don't have to run away from perps. I'm armed :o).

Meghan: I'm thinking maybe I need to do a kind of Sisterhood of the Traveling Goddess Shoes with these. Gross or no?

Gypsy said...

Ok now I feel very ashamed. My husband is gone for 10 days out of every 3 weeks and well....I hate to say it....really I do.....but I barely notice he's gone :( Except at dinner time because he is a GREAT cook. :((