One Shoe Blues

ep50_carrie_tripping_runwayThis 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. 

How I Almost Broke My Face Today

I love wearing a new piece of clothing to work. If you are feeling down on yourself, go out, I don’t care if it is Bergdorf’s or Walmart, and buy yourself something shnazzy. For me, it gives me this false sense of power. Wearing a new piece of clothing makes me feel good about myself, or it should, and there is always a chance of people not knowing what you are wearing is new, therefore, unexpected, but pleasant, power trip. People will just think you have this air of confidence about you, but really you are just riding a new clothes high. You can’t get more fabulous than that.

So this weekend I bought a lovely Vivienne Tam, pleated, flowing maxi skirt, that was a bit too long, but I didn’t care … details, details. And guess what … it wasn’t black! GASP … I know. So purchasing said skirt made me ecstatic for two reasons: 1. I finally got to own something Vivienne Tam after I saw her show during fashion week. 2. I got it for a fantastic price (Loheman’s is God’s gift to woman.) It is a beautiful spring color, and, to be honest, if it is fun enough to twirl in, it is fun enough for me … which it was. I love the romantic idea behind a maxi skirt. The twirling aspect. The thought behind it that if I did have to run through a field of daisies after the love of my life, I would clearly have to hold up a side of it gracefully so I did not trip, hair flowing in the wind. You know … the usual day-to-day activities a woman does.

But just like in the movies, that romantic idea is nonsense. So I decided to wear my skirt to work today. This skirt has a ton of fabric to it, which is another reason why I have created a love affair with it. I wore it with a simple black t-shirt and flats to keep it casual, but like I said, the skirt is a bit too long if I’m not wearing heels. So walking to my car, fine. Walking into work, fine. Sitting in my chair at work and rolling to the computer … not fine. The bottom of my skirt immediately got caught under the wheels causing me to jerk forward. I mean hello, Monday morning, lost an hour of sleep, no caffeine in my blood stream yet. Really chair … really? But I untangled myself, stumbled a bit as I got up and marched myself to the land of caffeine.

Walking down the stairs to the kitchen was my favorite. I held the sides of my skirt gracefully, like I was about to curtsy, I mean it was glorious. So I did my morning ritual of going to get tea and made my way back up the stairs. One hand free to tend to skirt holding, one hand free for the scolding hot lemon tea. Even though I was holding one side of the skirt, the other side was still dangling … ready to kill me with every step up the stairs I took. I didn’t know what to do first, make sure I didn’t get burned by the scolding hot tea, make sure I didn’t face plant whilst walking up the stairs, or make sure when I finally said “screw it” and hiked my skirt up in an unattractive bunch that a co-worker wouldn’t get an awkward show first thing Monday morn. Instead, I took it slow and steady like a pirate with a peg leg up the stairs, trying not to burn myself, and trying not to step on too much skirt fabric, so it didn’t just slip right off, and praying to Jesus no one would see me acting a fool this early … I mean for the love of God.

By the time I got back to my desk, rolling over the fabric of my skirt yet AGAIN which caused me to jerk forward awkwardly, I had about enough of this nonsense and it was only 9:30 a.m. … if that. So to sum this story up, that scene took place about, oh, I don’t know, another 10 times throughout the day. The more I almost fell, but caught myself, or the more I hobbled up the stairs like a pirate, I couldn’t help but laugh. Yep I was that girl, hobbling, laughing, and falling up the stairs like I should be committed. Nice to meet you. Yeah so, my romantic idea of Audrey Hepburn holding up her flowing long skirt like a lady, turned into more like a toothless hag holding up her skirt in an unattractive bunch like she was stepping on grapes to make wine saying … “ELLO GOVNAHHHHHHH,” to passerby’s.

Lesson learned: I need to get that damn skirt hemmed, and quite frankly, romantic stories I make up in my head about clothing probably do not belong in a two-story office, okay? The funny thing is, I was so nervous to look at the bottom of my skirt for fear that it had been ripped to shreds with me falling all over it today, but to my dismay, it indeed stayed intact. I like to think while making this fabulous pleated skirt that Vivienne Tam said to herself, “hmm, some asshole girl is probably going to want to pretend that she is Cinderella whilst wearing it during everyday activities, but in reality she is going to fall … and fall a lot … and get really tangled in things. Let’s get the most durable fabric we can find team.” To that, I say thank you, Ms. Tam, thank you.