...and think about those sartorial decisions in the past that have left us filled with regret. Amidst the revelry of London fashion week, I spotted the above pair of Miu Miu lightning bolt sandals that I previously blogged about here. I can remember it like it was yesterday - it was only the second high-end shoe outing of my life. The year was 2000. I was 15. I stepped into Jeffrey (then Bob Ellis) Atlanta confident, ready to buy some serious footwear. After all, I was, of course, already the owner of TWO pairs of designer shoes. And then it struck me - like a moth to a flame I was instantly drawn to THE pair. Allll the way in the back of the store. Past the best-selling Manolos, the uppity salesmen, and the blurry shapes of lesser shoes, I first laid eyes in person on the Miu Miu lightning bolt sandals I had seen (in super low-res) previously on an infantile Style.com. They were simple, strappy, an unexpected combo of pale pink and metallic red, and they were everything I had ever dreamed of. I tried them on, they fit perfectly, and I fell in love. But there was just one problem - my dad hated them. When I was younger, my dad used to take me on all of my shopping trips, and I can only remember one occasion where he literally hated something I loved so much - and this was it. He wouldn't buy them for me, rationalizing that I would wear them at most once. I was devastated, but like any teenage shoe fanatic, I had already starting focusing in on some of those blurry shapes closer to the front of the store, and in order to heal my broken heart, I quickly slipped into a pair of Prada D'Orsays in a much more wearable shade of brown. Sure, I liked them in the moment, I liked them a lot. But guess how many times I wore them? ONCE. And how many times have I dreamed of the Miu Mius since? Looking back on that day, I wish I had begged, or pleaded, or even left the store empty handed. Because every time I looked at those Pradas, their ugly brown non-metallic leather taunted me with visions of an impossible future - a future in which I wore my Miu Miu lighting bolt sandals EVERY. FREAKING. DAY. At some point, I sold them on eBay, and I guess in the twelve years since I have healed from the pain. But I will never quit searching for the most perfect pair of shoes of all time. So, unidentified lady in the party picture above, may you be somehow transcendentally drawn to this blog post, may your feet be a size 7, and may you be willing to sell those shoes to me for a reasonable price. Because until they are mine, I will be forced to live with this horrible judgement system:
And that's just insane.