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Feverish Fervour for Ferragamos

November 14, 2011

Where have I been? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?? Exactly. Listen I had shit going on – important shit. Not important enough that I didn’t have time to snap up a few tasty treats while I was incommunicado. But before we get into that – can I just say – for the record – that I might not buy any boots this winter? By boots I mean tall boots – because I bought two pairs of boots this fall – and I don’t want anyone getting confused and thinking that that counts.

Because – I actually don’t think that there any tall boots that interest me right now. Like I have all the tall boots that I ever could possibly want. Is that  arrogant? I mean – I feel like Frye hasn’t shown me anything lately – and I find it hard to name another boot brand that I would pin my hopes and dreams on. Plus, and I realize this is sacrilege – but aren’t boots played out yet? I mean HOW MUCH LONGER are they going tyrannically terrorize the aesthetic landscape. And I mean – this from a person who loves boots –  but enough already. And sure we have booties, and flats and oxfords and all that shizzz – but here’s the thing – I think tall boots are only going to truly fade ONCE the shift from skinny jean back to wide leg has fully taken affect. Discuss.

I mean – I personally am not ready to fully embrace the wide leg again. I see girls wearing them – and I’m like oh that’s cute – cute! But I’m not ready – psychologically. But eventually sure – skinnies will eventually be regarded how boot cuts are today –   with faint distaste. So once that transition is made – where is that going to leave us with all our boots? With no skinnies to tuck them into? I mean – I actually almost never wear my boots with jeans – not a good look on me – but honestly – I think tall boots will have to loosen their death grip. I’m kinda into it! To see what moves into the vacuum.

But this really isn’t what I’m here to talk about. Lets dispense with house keeping first: I GOT A PAIR OF RED WINGS. Now that the cheveux  is sorta grown out – I was like man – I’m just gonna try them on and see how they fit and feel. Oh and I loved them – oh how I loved them.

Mine. And also - mine.

Then by mistake I went into Chasse Gardee and got these fantastic dessert boots:

Take me to the Gobi!

See – they’re just little guys? What harm could they do?

So it was a bit of an orgy. THEN I got it into my head that I needed a pair of Ferragamos. I needed them, they were classics, they would be like a good blow out from my hair dresser- packed full of transformative properties – me perpetually disheveled and dilapidated – now a groomed paragon of polish. So I went to David’s on Bloor. I find that place intimidating. Which irritates me. Because I’m like yes I’m a slob – but you don’t know – I could be a gazzilionnaire. At the very least I can go into debt to do some serious damage in your store – DON’T MAKE ME SHOW YOU MY CREDIT CARD.  So I tried on a pair of the Ferragamo vara pumps. And I mean – they are truly gorgeous – I slide them on, and it’s pure heaven. Pure, pure, heaven. But – I’d like more of a colour selection because I want to live a little! And when I ask if they’re getting more in – the sales dude basically tells me to go fuck myself. Ha. No he didn’t. But imagine? I sorta have a grudge against David’s now. But anyways – no no – they’re not getting anymore in.

So then do you kn0w what i find out? David’s is the only store in the entire city of Toronto that sells Ferragamo. I mean people – fine we’re not in New York – but JESUS CHRIST can it get any more desperate???? ECHHHH and PEHHHH.

So I go back to work – and as I’m obsessing, about how Toronto is DENYING ME and IGNORING  my needs – I suddenly feel marginally chagrined at the thought that I’m so willing to drop large on a pair of totally superfluous and wholly undeserved shoes. So I instant message my signif other (lets call him MY HUSBAND) and confess to my nefarious and budget-busting plan. He’s like my priest – I confess all my pervy, unwholesome thoughts – and he’s like whatever – absolved, absolved, get back out there.

Oh ho – but this time, there’s no Hail Marys to be had. Instead, husband is not only all like “how much? what? why? you crazy!” – he also says something much more damaging, to me, my psyche,  to the sanctity of our relationship – to the trust we’ve spent years building and nurturing – to the goodwill born by longs walks on the beach and me folding his underwear:  “You don’t have the wardrobe to go with those shoes.”

Judas.

He looks harmless - but is NAT a good guy.

I mean – I’ve written before how I’ve been concerned that my shoes far outdistance my clothes in both interest and quality – and like – fine – that’s always a concern – but to have it thrown in my face by the person I look to for support and blind validation? It’s too much.

So like – what am I suppose to do? I confer with my mother – whose always trying to get me to buy fewer clothes of better quality – but I just can’t summon the interest to drop mad cash on a black wool skirt that will last me 2o years. OYYYYYY. And also kill me dead. And also – I feel like I’ll lose a little bit of my soul  if I swap one of my true loves in life – and like we’re down to 1 now that my husband has betrayed me so foully – for the more prosaic concerns of textiles and tailoring. RAGS – I’d rather wear RAGS then turn my face from all that shines brightly ie. the little Ferragamo-inscribed plate on the vara bow – can you see it? It’s like God’s eyeball:

Ferragorgeous.

So. This is where you find me. All these issues left unresolved. Ferragamo-less. Confused. Alone. But one thing remains: My faith. Unshakeable. Slightly irrational. Deeply satisfying and completely self-serving. And with this new found martyr complex – comes the absolute knowledge that all will turn out right in the end. By which I mean – my closet will be packed full of Ferragamos! YEAH! And also – Amen.

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