18
Nov
Here it is, my Holy Grail: personification via footwear.
Some people aspire to be captured forever by way of bronze—their raised, tarnished fists nobly providing a perch for pigeons and the occasional squirrel, in city parks ‘round the world.
Others prefer to have entire buildings erected in their name, brick and mortar with shiny black tiles quipping “so and so. so and so. so and so” every time heels click down their very own halls.
Me? I just want to be the heels. Not any old heels, mind you. Those heels, up there, in the picture.
They are dangerously high, purple suede heels with a red sole, just like God and Christian Louboutin intended. They are breathtakingly, perfectly me: slightly impractical, colorful, and not meant for long distance walking and/or running.
Perhaps when I kick the proverbial bucket, Mr. Louboutin’s team will be kind enough to issue a shoe just like this one, in my name.
I like suede better than bronze, anyday.
