And when she talked about the fall I thought she talked about Mark E. Smith
I came to a realization the other day that for me, at this particular time and stage of my life, it's kind of worth it to buy expensive shoes. Now, when I say shoes, I am not including heels or otherwise coquettish fancy-dress things, which I wear maybe once every eight months for a maximum of five hours a shot. I mean shoes, real shoes, that I can wear to 98% of the places I go in life.
Now, growing up with the mom that I had, it was drilled into my brain bi-weekly that paying more than 50 dollars for a pair of shoes is a folly on par with driving drunk and eating lead paint. And while I still chafe at the thought of ever voluntarily setting foot in a Payless, I've stuck by this notion pretty faithfully. Until now. I live in a city. I don't have a car. I do a lot, and I do mean a lot, of walking. And when I realized that all of my shoes from last summer-- purchased from various DSWs and Rackrooms and Nine West outlets-- are developing strategic spots of wear that are verging on full-fledged holes, something clicked and for the first time the thought entered my head that maybe, just maybe, dropping over 100 bucks for a non-boot pair of shoes that will look cute while surviving longer than your average hamster is a worthwhile endeavor.
And so! I am the proud owner of a pair of pumpkin-colored Fluevogs, retail price $189.00. They are comfortable and sturdy and attractive don't seem at all hole-prone. I win!
Another positive development is that I snagged an internship at the MFA library for the fall. No lies! In a completely random series of events: I was sitting in the museum cafeteria, recovering from having just spent 200 fucking dollars for a pair of fucking shoes (a part of my mother lives on) and received an unlisted call that turned out to be from the internship coordinator. When he discovered that I was on museum premises, he jogged down to the cafeteria and interviewed me on the spot, and afterward gave me the number of the library internship guru, telling me to call her as soon as possible to set up another interview. So I did, and she described the internship duties, and I expressed strong interest, and then she asked my schedule for the fall, and I told her, and then she said "Well, give us a call in August, and we can set up a schedule." I paused, and then asked "So...should I...count on having an internship with you this fall?" The answer, my friends, was yes.
I think on the way home I'm going to buy a celebratory chipwich.
Now, growing up with the mom that I had, it was drilled into my brain bi-weekly that paying more than 50 dollars for a pair of shoes is a folly on par with driving drunk and eating lead paint. And while I still chafe at the thought of ever voluntarily setting foot in a Payless, I've stuck by this notion pretty faithfully. Until now. I live in a city. I don't have a car. I do a lot, and I do mean a lot, of walking. And when I realized that all of my shoes from last summer-- purchased from various DSWs and Rackrooms and Nine West outlets-- are developing strategic spots of wear that are verging on full-fledged holes, something clicked and for the first time the thought entered my head that maybe, just maybe, dropping over 100 bucks for a non-boot pair of shoes that will look cute while surviving longer than your average hamster is a worthwhile endeavor.
And so! I am the proud owner of a pair of pumpkin-colored Fluevogs, retail price $189.00. They are comfortable and sturdy and attractive don't seem at all hole-prone. I win!
Another positive development is that I snagged an internship at the MFA library for the fall. No lies! In a completely random series of events: I was sitting in the museum cafeteria, recovering from having just spent 200 fucking dollars for a pair of fucking shoes (a part of my mother lives on) and received an unlisted call that turned out to be from the internship coordinator. When he discovered that I was on museum premises, he jogged down to the cafeteria and interviewed me on the spot, and afterward gave me the number of the library internship guru, telling me to call her as soon as possible to set up another interview. So I did, and she described the internship duties, and I expressed strong interest, and then she asked my schedule for the fall, and I told her, and then she said "Well, give us a call in August, and we can set up a schedule." I paused, and then asked "So...should I...count on having an internship with you this fall?" The answer, my friends, was yes.
I think on the way home I'm going to buy a celebratory chipwich.