My friend kindly met me at the Apple store the other day as the geniuses failed to fix my computer (sigh). We suggested that the real genius thing to do would be serve Appletinis at the Genius Bar, getting a laugh from the tech, and then headed out, Mac unfixed, to shop for shoes, because really, what are friends for?
My friend, like me, is a shoe ho. There is no better friend with whom to shop for shoes. She’s honest, she knows tricks like “Wear the shoes around the store before buying them,” and “Don’t commit just yet; we have another section to look at.” We engaged the opinion of a tiny woman (4’ 10”)—I am nearly a foot taller than she is, and so we talked about the pros and cons of being tall and short. I said I looked like an Amazon in heels; she said, “I would love to look like an Amazon.” She had great legs and loved heels; we urged her to buy both pairs of shoes she was considering. “Thanks a lot,” her husband grumbled.
My friend and I were looking for statement shoes; these will be the shoes I wear with the little black dress when I give my big speech in Atlanta in two weeks (pause for a cold sweat of terror). Anyway, my friend and I debated two pairs: the author-ish shoes: adorable, comfortable, charming…or the slutty shoes: bold, unusual, trashy. “You’re Kristan Higgins,” my friend said. “We’re getting the slut shoes.”
In fact, I bought both pairs. My name is Kristan, and I’m a shoe-aholic.