Personal Yummy #77
She looks elegant in a spaghetti-strapped sequined top of bright orange…classy black slacks…and stunning, sleek, jewel-studded black Manolos.
He looks dapper in trendy glasses and a stylish button-up, with clean, crisp, blue lines…fashionable jeans…and pointed, lace-up, luxurious leather Cubans.
They are both a little under-the-weather. She said he had been coughing all night and she had to take a nap during the day because she had started to feel sick.
“You know how it suddenly just starts to come on, and you start to feel it?” she asked me.
“I sure do,” I answered. “But—don’t worry—you still look great…and I absolutely love your shoes.”
Tonight, fortunately, I am feeling healthy and am happy to be at the engagement party. I am wearing my Mexx white jeans with the lace pockets, my sexy Bebe royal-blue top, and the black-and-white dangling rhinestone earrings that I received as a Christmas gift. And on my feet are my tan two-and-a-half-inch satin Aida Latin dance shoes (the ones I use for competitions), in case the party turns into a dance celebration later on, which it usually does.
It’s a Saturday night in Brooklyn among dancers, don’t you know.
Actually, last night I bought a pair of daring, chunky, snakeskin high heels from the TJ Maxx on Fifty-Seventh Street in Manhattan. The Russian woman in the dressing room couldn’t help but say how beautiful they were—in fact, she also liked the lace-covered photo album I bought as a gift for the engaged couple.
“Ahhhh,” she commented, “what a special and unique album… I’m sure they will love it.”
I nodded.
“And you can present it to them in those fancy, new shoes,” she added.
In all honesty, that’s what I had planned to do.
Yes, I had planned to wear the new heels to the party, but I went back and forth with myself, figuring that I’d be too uncomfortable in them, and possibly even a bit too self-conscious as well, never having worn such high and blocky heels to a party before.
Plus, they would be difficult to dance in.
So I decided against it.
(Meanwhile, one of my dance friends—only five-two—is wearing her usual five-inch magenta open-toed suede platform Jimmy Choos, her feet snug and surrounded like they are snails in their shells.)
Now, however, I am struggling about whether to take the new heels back. They were fifty dollars, after all, but they are designer shoes—and gorgeous. And even if I don’t wear them, they’ll give my apartment that sensual, luscious vibe I like, as my rhinestone dresses hanging on my Kmart rack already do.
So, yeah, maybe I’ll keep them, and I’ll wear them sometime when I don’t have to walk all over the city, and especially if someone picks me up and I can avoid taking the subway.
I mean, didn’t I just read—in Glamour, I think—something about not missing your chance to wear stilettos and high heels when you’re young and able?
Or, in other words, not being a drag and wearing short black pumps constantly?
Which reminds me…
I have a pair of short black pumps under my desk at work, which I wear there quite often. I got them at the Payless shoe store on Third Avenue, I remember, for twenty dollars. I think the brand is called “Lower East Side,” or something to that effect.
They are fine for my corporate job in Midtown, but I have been an Upper East Side gal for a while now, I must remind myself.
So, yeah, on second thought, I think I’ll keep the new shoes.
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