Recently, Style Spy treated herself to a pair of these bad boys...
The version of this sandal that I have is less extreme -- there are just the three stars on the front of the shoe and they have a regular, all-one-piece sole without the toe shapes. The insoles & heels are the same gold as the stars. They're pretty spectacular. Simple. Beautiful. They special-up everything. (Although I learned the hard way that this is yet another pair of shoes I need to not wear with hand-hemmed slacks -- the points on the stars catch on the hem threads.) But Saturday I was prepping an outfit that will feature them and I noticed something.
(Okay, just stop right there. Yes, I prep outfits. Meaning, I put the outfit together and try it on to make sure everything works and it looks good together. A dress rehearsal, as it were. Sometimes I do it just to entertain myself -- tells you something about my madly exciting life, doesn't it? -- but in this particular case I'm going to have to change into this outfit with not a lot of time and I can't be futzing with it in the moment, it has to be ready to go. The occasion is a couple of days from now, but I had time this weekend, so I checked it off the list. I make no apologies for this -- I have been playing dress-up all my life, I'm not about to stop just because I'm a so-called grown-up.)
At any rate, prepping the outfit, blahblah, get the shoes, and what did I notice? This:
Yes. Toothmark. And no, not mine. Delicious as these sandals are, I have not attempted to eat them. Here is the culprit:
How she can sleep with her guilty conscience, I'll never know...Look at her, all fluffy, angelic innocence. You'd never know, would you, that inside that adorable furball lurks the mouthy oral fixation of a teething Labrador retriever puppy. Babycat is a chewer, I regret to say. Magazines, plants, shoelaces, tissue paper -- and patent leather is an especially delectable treat, apparently. It is bizarre behavior, I'll grant you, but at five years old she shows no signs of letting it go, so this is what it is. It certainly inspires me to put my stuff away as soon as I'm done with it, for fear of this very occurrence. But evidently I relaxed my vigilance at some point for a few moments. It couldn't have been long, but it was long enough for Shine to get in a nibble. I hope she enjoyed it, because she'll never have that chance again.
Was I upset? Yeah, a little bit. But in a way, it's good for this sort of thing to happen to me every now and again. I tend to get a little carried away with precious-izing my things. And they're just things. Lovely, artful, and sometimes very expensive, but still -- just things. Whereas this fluffbucket here
is my beating heart, the love of my life, and my most dependable source of joy. Stefano Pilati, genius that he may be, has yet to create anything so wonderful as her.
Which is not to say I'm going to start leaving my shoes lying around, let me be perfectly clear.
Photos: Style.com, Style Spy