Sanna's Bag

“I never seem to have what I need when I need it. I’m going to make a belt-bag that’s bigger on the inside than on the outside, and just carry everything with me.”

Saturday, July 22, 2006

walkin' the mall

DH and I like to go hike around the mall before it opens on Saturdays. It's climate-controlled, well lighted, and secure. And I get a chance to window-shop on the fly. Today, as we cruised on through for the first go-around, we passed an athletic-shoes store with 8 young men lined up outside. They were young men with tattoos and piercings; with those baggy-crotch shorts that make it impossible to run for the bus, and show the top three inches of the boxer shorts, and make middle-aged women want to grab and jerk them all the way down to "teach him a lesson." These tough young honchos had enough attitude for a platoon of marines - but without the accompanying discipline. And what was it that caused them to congregate here in the mall at the ungodly hour of 7:30 AM you may ask? They were waiting for a shoe sale!! Heehee! Anyone can be a fashion victim! Can you just see it? "Yo, Rocco, ain't these cute?" "Oh dude, those are to die for! Do they have them in a 13 narrow?"

Back when I was young and strong, I loved shoes. I especially loved wearing high, high heels. I'm six feet tall, and loved to rise up to 6'5" and stroll down the street with a smile. Then I hurt my back and could no longer wear high heels. At all. Ever. So I took my prettiest shoes and filled two big shopping bags and took them over to the transvestite bar near work. The lipstick-red pumps vanished before I could finish saying, "I'm giving these away." The electric blue snakeskin spikes nearly caused a riot. The black velvet cutaways with the rhinestone studded ankle straps - oh how I hated to part with them, but they went to a very good home and even showed up occasionally on the society page of the paper. Now that all my shoes are flats, it's hard to get excited about them. I did push the envalope a bit with a pair of 2" wedge-heeled espadrilles with pink ribbon ankle straps that tie in pretty bows. Those are the girliest shoes I have ever owned, but I sure can't walk in them. They are to wear for strutting from the car, into the restaurant, and sitting down for a few hours, occasionally crossing the knees and swinging a coyly girlish ankle into view. Sometimes I go into the shoe stores and try on a pair of four inch heels again, but it still hurts my back. So to those who can still wear them, stand UP in your shoes! Keep your weight back over your heels, and swing those lanky legs from the hip! Stride on thou bold and lovely amazons, stride on!


  • At 10:58 AM , Blogger Lucia said...

    I would so love to have been a fly on the wall! That scene belongs in a book, and no one could paint it better than you (even if you hadn't been there).

  • At 4:09 PM , Blogger Pat K said...

    Trust Roxie to head out and cause a riot. I can't wear heels either, two inch ones are pushing it. But I'm a lot shorter, too.

  • At 12:21 PM , Blogger Amy Lane said...

    I'm short on sleep and words today, but I must say THAT'S AWESOME!!! If you're going to go out, that's the way to go...I'm sorry you can't wear heels anymore...I've always hated to wear them and envied the way they look on others...with your attitude I bet you knocked them dead!

  • At 7:09 PM , Anonymous Rose said...

    I know the pain of not being able to wear super-fabulous heeled shoes. At least yours were able to live a long and productive life with the transvestites. You have such a way with words; I enjoy reading your blog just to see how you'll turn a phrase.


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