This is the most impractical shoe I have ever seen.
My favorite thing to wear in the summer is BOOTS! Yeeeeeah! I love to coat my ankles and the tops of my feet in non-breathable suede. And thanks, shoe designer, for adding an open-toe to this fashion disaster so that the puddles of feet sweat have a place to runoff, instead of just stagnating inside my bootie/flipflop.
I like trends. I read Womens Wear Daily (sometimes. Ok, not that often), but I draw the line at this. This is ...insane.
I remember when I first moved to New York City almost ten years ago, I was kind of overwhelmed by how attractive, shiny and fashion-focused everyone seemed. I busted my ass (and credit card, HA!) buying slashed-price designer fashions at Loehman's and TJ Maxx and using my sewing machine to alter hot thrift-store pieces I snagged so that I could feel sophisticated and hip on a budget, while working a slave-wage-payin' publishing job in Chelsea.
It sort of worked. The trying to look good, I mean. Some days were a hit, others, I cringed when I saw my slouching reflection in a store window, wondering if perhaps I'd dressed myself that morning in a fit of hysterical blindness.
However, and this is the honest truth (from the mid-30's sage who's life experience can benefit you, young reader!) ...over time I began to realize that even if you're wearing hottest trend of the season (ie skinny jeans...oh, you hateful fashion 'staple'), if you aren't comfy in your own skin, you're just not gonna look good.
And that's the truth, Ruth.
Here's my goddamned question, though: Why does it take growing older to grow wiser? How come I couldn't feel this good about my looks when I actually didn't have crow's feet and thighs that kissed each other when I walked around the village? Huh? Huh?
It's not freaking fair. But still, it's ok.
I was thinking about all the freaky things I used to wear when I had my first job at 22. I had a pair of pink and black wool bell-bottoms that looked amazing with my polyester button-down shirt and manic-panic'ed burgundy hair.
My only leftover cutting-edge fashion accessory now is a nose ring and a messy ponytail. But it's cool.
I guess when you think about the steel toed Doc Martens I used to wear (my dad would chortle, "Don't you need a prescription to wear orthopedic shoes? Waka Waka!"), the sandal bootie isn't really that bad. But still.
I will not be wearing that crap this summer. Bet on it.