Twice a year, after working a full day, I meet a friend to drive 70 miles to our favorite shopping mall. The purpose of our trip is to spend time together. We talk, we laugh, we cry as we forge another thread in the bond that ties us together. The side benefit of our twice annual gabfest is shopping until we drop. Since we are both frugal, we do more looking than purchasing.
Shopping with a friend is a joy. We offer our opinions as we model for each other and the salespeople often voice their opinions as well. I am surprised how brutally honest salespeople can be. “That’s not your color.” “I think you can do better.” And even, “That makes you look like a square.” I thought they wanted to encourage a sale?
Last night, during our fall trip, we spent the majority of time in the shoe warehouse. I love shoes. At 5 feet 7 inches I have always shied away from heels. Now, in my 50s, I have decided it is time to explore a higher dimension and wear those ‘sexy’ heels. I love the way heels make my feet look small and petite. I have always had serviceable shoes but now I find myself leaning toward shoes that make my feet look young.
Getting into the spirit, my friend posed for pictures as she hunted for shoes that she really, really needed.
Here is a picture of the shoes she wore to the store.
Here is a picture of the boots she fell in love with.
Here is a picture of the boots she purchased.
My friend is not in her 50s and comfort trumps the cute factor for her still. She is very, very wise.
Today I wore my heels to work. I loved them. By 2:30 my feet were in despair and I almost had to go home sick. As I hobbled around the office I kept reminding myself that my feet looked really great. It was small satisfaction.