Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Walking The Walk

See, I have a bone to pick with Mr. Ferragamo. Yeah, the very same Mr. Salvatore Ferragamo. I’d like to ask him, what was he smoking when he thought up the stiletto? Perhaps a drink too many? I mean seriously, when was the last time you walked on stilts?

If there’s one thing I hate, its how an outfit looks so much better when paired with feet standing on ice picks. Except, when I see another woman effortlessly waltzing past me, in them. Then, it’s that which I hate so much more.

So, this friend of mine, was telling me how she read in an interview, about this supermodel who would practice walking in six-inch stilettos on the treadmill just to get her strut right. Oh ladies, don’t try it at home. There is nothing glamorous about lying spread-eagled on the floor with the heel having long flown off to territories yet unmapped. And don’t certainly try it with a cigarette in one hand and chardonnay in another. I was going for the ‘Flashbulbs-going-off-Me-caught-unaware-Picture-next-day-in-paper’ look, only to end up with a burn hole in my tee and chardonnay on my beautiful floors!

Thank god this season flats are in.

But of course, it kills me when, just as I am to head out, “HE” points to my feet and says, “ You are going to wear that?? How about those instead?”, pointing at my nemesis.

What’s a woman got to do?

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