Question: Why did Mr F and I end up hobnobbing with the 1% on Rodeo Drive the Saturday afternoon before Christmas?
Answer: An out of town guest asked to see the famous L.A. shopping area.
My conclusion: There was no sign of a recession among those shoppers.
These boots – covered with “Swarovski elements” – were in the Stuart Weitzman store window. Of course if you need to know how much they cost, you can’t afford them, so I didn’t go into the shop to inquire.
It’s funny how the mind works. Looking down at my sensible walking shoes after seeing those crystal studded boots I was reminded of an encounter I had in the Museum a few years ago:
Ten pm on a Saturday night I waited for the elevator to the parking garage with a group of well-dressed jovial people, who I could see had spent the evening at the fancy-shmancy restaurant at the Museum.
The three women, who were in their early thirties, were wearing sexy, black dresses which clung to their bodies and showed off much cleavage, and on their feet, sandals with crystals on the straps and unbelievably high heels that looked like glass. I could see they’d recently brushed their long hair, and re-applied their very red lipstick, and from the giggling and flirting it was apparent that they’d had too much to drink.
The three men wore dark suits.
I’d been at work since noon on a busy summer Saturday, I didn’t need to look in a mirror to know I looked a caricature of unattractive frumpyness… Suffering through a period of bloated belly I wore a pair of pants with an elastic waist – bloody menopause! – a loose shirt with buttons that didn’t draw attention to my “bloatedness” and on my feet, my trusty Rockport walking shoes, which are really great for standing all day. My hair? All I knew is I hadn’t brushed it since my shower at 11 a.m. that morning.
If I wasn’t so exhausted I might’ve waited for the next elevator. I stood at the back holding my bag in front of me in the hope that it was big enough to hide me.
When they got out the elevator on the first level, one of the men, a tall, dark, handsome dude, with his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder and hooked in his thumb, waved at me and said, “Nice shoes.”
I’m still trying to think what I should’ve said to him…
I wonder what he’d have said if I was standing in that elevator in these five-toe shoes, which I tried on recently in a shoe store.
My thoughts on the shoes? I could barely get my toes into the spaces, I cannot imagine walking in them.
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Last week I met a woman – Noreen M – at my cash register. After chatting for a while I discovered she went to the same high school as me, and lived next door to my friend Leen. She asked me to send you her love Leen. Noreen lives in California, and her sister Carol, who was our age, lives in New Zealand.