This weekend I started doing an audit of my shoes since it’s almost boots season (eeeeeeeeeee), and I noticed that some, if not all, of my flip-flops and sandals need to be burned. Clearly I did some walkin’ this summer. Which brings me to what I call Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra story time. Gather around, kids … this is a story about probably one of most monumental wardrobe malfunctions of my summer:

As a preface, I would like to state that I was 87% sober when this event occurred. 

Picture it: Labor Day Weekend 2013. Made in America concert. Well … outside of the Made in America concert. My friend and I made this genius assumption that since there was only an hour left until Beyoncé went on stage ticket prices would absolutely be lowered from $150. Genius. Until some intimidating sales person told us, “NOPE still $150, ya comin’ or goin’, ladies?!” Cool. I wasn’t too bummed, though. The sea of trash trucks blocking off streets like something out of Batman (Christian Bale Batman, not Michael Keaton Batman), concert goers wrapped in American flags, girls who looked like Urban Outfitters threw up all over them throwing their iPhones at me to snap a pic of her and the beeeeeeessssssssssties in front of the Made in America sign … um yeah … let’s just say we backed away slowly.

So we decided to walk on down the Parkway for a nice stroll. A stroll that ended up us pretty much walking around the entire city, but I digress. More importantly, a stroll that my Forever 21 sandals that I had worn for two summers clearly couldn’t handle.

Now before you guys roll your eyes at me and say, “listen, I totally know where this is going and you are a damn fool for buying shoes at Forever 21,” I would like to say to you … CHILL OUT, MAN AND LET ME FINISH MY DAMN STORY!

Ahem, where was I? Ahh yes, the Parkway. It was a lovely humid evening, and the farther you got from the concert, the more the city felt completely abandoned. I found myself looking at black SUVs and wondering if young Blue Carter was inside with Momma Bey. Checking out the beauty of the museums. Enjoying light conversation about where to find margaritas close by with my friend (I told you it was really humid out). And then it happened. Mid-sentence I, out of nowhere, trip. In slow motion (at least in my head), my sandal literally folds in half as I lean forward preparing to fall (I probably made a really awesome face during all of this, too). Luckily my cat-like reflexes stopped me from actually falling, but when I looked down, I found the thong part of my sandal hanging on by a literal thread. How poetic.

There I was. At the end of the Parkway with my one sandal in ruins, picturing myself walking around the city barefoot, contracting numerous flesh-eating viruses as onlookers pointed and laughed, and desperately praying that Payless would pop up magically.

Since I had one thread holding my sandal together, I decided to use what the Gods gave me … and walk on, with my head held high. Well … I’ll use the term “walk” lightly. I ended up having to do this really strange swagger, and no, words just wouldn’t do it justice. I’ll let you use your imaginations for that one. Enjoy.

So the point of all of this is that I want to give Forever 21 a slow clap, and at the same time I would like to do a touchdown dance in front of all the Forever 21 shoe haters, because that sandal that was hanging on by an actual thread didn’t break for the rest of the evening. The little guy stayed strong. I was in awe. Sure I had to walk like an idiot for the rest of the evening, but at least I didn’t have to go barefoot and die. Am I right?

So the moral of this story is, Forever 21 shoes are not only cute, cheap, and awesome … but can pretty much withstand anything with a little hope and a lot of awkward swagger.

The end.