I’d like to tell you the story of how I met my life partner.
Ok… it’s actually a pair of shoes, but who’s counting?
During a trip to Vegas with my friend Christine, I spotted my glamorous golden foot-goddesses through the window of the Steve Madden store in Planet Hollywood. The good news was that at 2 am the bar inside the mall was still open, enabling me to sample many of the 24 margarita flavor combinations offered… but the bad news was that all the retail stores were closed. This meant I was left to press my face up against the display window while I vowed to both a) return the moment the store opened the next day and b) start the paperwork to petition the State of Nevada to require that all stores, especially those of the footwear vending variety, remain open 24 hours a day.
The next morning I perched next to Christine’s bed and, in an attempt to gently ease her out of her slumber, I quietly chanted “wake up, it’s Vegas outside”.
When that didn’t work I used the fire extinguisher.
On our way back to Planet Hollywood I recall making pleasant conversation with the cab driver about all the things I could wear with the shoes I was about to buy. I'm not entirely sure he spoke english, but he seemed genuinely happy for me. I can't say the same for Christine, who was more interested in angrily trying to brush the fire extinguisher powder out of her hair than listening to me.
Once inside the Steve Madden store, I made a bee-line for my golden beauties and they were even more breathtaking than I had remembered. A salesperson walked by apparently oblivious to the fact that I was clutching a display shoe and salivating, so I politely got her attention by using a wrestling technique known as “the clothesline”. Fearing that I was also well versed in the figure-four leg lock, she scurried away to find the size 6½ that I had requested. She returned from the back room with an ice pack on her face and with the news that they only had the display shoe left and that it was a 5½.
I began to hyperventilate.
I’m not sure why, but in the movies when people hyperventilate someone hands them a paper bag to breathe into. I didn’t have a paper bag handy, so I made a grab for the only other available option.
Christine’s purse.
Apparently she was still upset about the fire extinguisher incident because she jerked her purse away from me, whipped out a tube of lip gloss and brandished it at my neck as though it was some sort of make-shift prison shiv. Clearly I was alone here, so I told myself to pull it together. Maybe the 5½’s would fit?
I squished and scrunched my feet until they wedged themselves into the peep-toed, sling-backed wonders I had been dreaming about all my life... (or at least since 2 am).
I stood up and started hobbling across the store with my head held high, as though maintaining a confident demeanour would convince passers by that these shoes were made for me.
“They’re too small” Christine said dryly.
“I don’t know, they seem alright to me” I replied through clenched teeth.
“Look at your toes” she said pointing. I looked down to see my poor toes turning purple and fighting each other to escape out the peep-toe. If you listened carefully enough I think you could actually hear them screaming.
“Fine” I muttered as I kicked the shoes off. Silently cursing my parents for choosing not to bind my feet during infancy, we left the store empty handed.
Then it hit me.
Maybe if I quit my job and dedicated 12 hours a day to googling gold shoes, I would be able to find them online!
Sure enough I found them right away on the Steve Madden website. A signature was required upon delivery, and since I had found the shoes before I hastily tendered my resignation, I had them sent to the admin office I was working in at the time.
When the package arrived my coworkers all gathered around as I tore through the shipping paper. I lifted the lid and it was as if the heavens were shining down into the box. The room was filled with the sound of a thousand cherubs singing. Butterflies fluttered out of the box with rainbow confetti unfolding from their wings. I think a unicorn even galloped by and shot sparkles out of its horn.
Sigh. It was magical.
Ok… it’s actually a pair of shoes, but who’s counting?
During a trip to Vegas with my friend Christine, I spotted my glamorous golden foot-goddesses through the window of the Steve Madden store in Planet Hollywood. The good news was that at 2 am the bar inside the mall was still open, enabling me to sample many of the 24 margarita flavor combinations offered… but the bad news was that all the retail stores were closed. This meant I was left to press my face up against the display window while I vowed to both a) return the moment the store opened the next day and b) start the paperwork to petition the State of Nevada to require that all stores, especially those of the footwear vending variety, remain open 24 hours a day.
The next morning I perched next to Christine’s bed and, in an attempt to gently ease her out of her slumber, I quietly chanted “wake up, it’s Vegas outside”.
When that didn’t work I used the fire extinguisher.
On our way back to Planet Hollywood I recall making pleasant conversation with the cab driver about all the things I could wear with the shoes I was about to buy. I'm not entirely sure he spoke english, but he seemed genuinely happy for me. I can't say the same for Christine, who was more interested in angrily trying to brush the fire extinguisher powder out of her hair than listening to me.
Once inside the Steve Madden store, I made a bee-line for my golden beauties and they were even more breathtaking than I had remembered. A salesperson walked by apparently oblivious to the fact that I was clutching a display shoe and salivating, so I politely got her attention by using a wrestling technique known as “the clothesline”. Fearing that I was also well versed in the figure-four leg lock, she scurried away to find the size 6½ that I had requested. She returned from the back room with an ice pack on her face and with the news that they only had the display shoe left and that it was a 5½.
I began to hyperventilate.
I’m not sure why, but in the movies when people hyperventilate someone hands them a paper bag to breathe into. I didn’t have a paper bag handy, so I made a grab for the only other available option.
Christine’s purse.
Apparently she was still upset about the fire extinguisher incident because she jerked her purse away from me, whipped out a tube of lip gloss and brandished it at my neck as though it was some sort of make-shift prison shiv. Clearly I was alone here, so I told myself to pull it together. Maybe the 5½’s would fit?
I squished and scrunched my feet until they wedged themselves into the peep-toed, sling-backed wonders I had been dreaming about all my life... (or at least since 2 am).
I stood up and started hobbling across the store with my head held high, as though maintaining a confident demeanour would convince passers by that these shoes were made for me.
“They’re too small” Christine said dryly.
“I don’t know, they seem alright to me” I replied through clenched teeth.
“Look at your toes” she said pointing. I looked down to see my poor toes turning purple and fighting each other to escape out the peep-toe. If you listened carefully enough I think you could actually hear them screaming.
“Fine” I muttered as I kicked the shoes off. Silently cursing my parents for choosing not to bind my feet during infancy, we left the store empty handed.
Then it hit me.
Maybe if I quit my job and dedicated 12 hours a day to googling gold shoes, I would be able to find them online!
Sure enough I found them right away on the Steve Madden website. A signature was required upon delivery, and since I had found the shoes before I hastily tendered my resignation, I had them sent to the admin office I was working in at the time.
When the package arrived my coworkers all gathered around as I tore through the shipping paper. I lifted the lid and it was as if the heavens were shining down into the box. The room was filled with the sound of a thousand cherubs singing. Butterflies fluttered out of the box with rainbow confetti unfolding from their wings. I think a unicorn even galloped by and shot sparkles out of its horn.
Sigh. It was magical.
Thanks for enjoying these deep thoughts with Meghan
