So, I just got back from this cool wine-’em-and-dine-’em conventiony user group thingy for Video Conferencing.
I had a fun fun time! And YES, I was working. It was a lot about tech stuff and strategies.
But the people that work for this company are so young and fun. Plus, everyone is having babies…
But that’s a different story.
I got back on Friday night, and the first thing that I took away from this conventiony thing was:
“I need new shoes. CUTE shoes.”
‘Cause those young fun females were all sporting their lacquered toes in hip little sandals. In PHILADELPHIA!
LA is even more of a naked toe environment.
I have been bashful to try these kinds of shoes. I admire them, and i do think I have attractive feet.
But I am of below average coordination.
FAR below average.
These ladies with their little teeny straps holding the shoe to their foot….I don’t think so.
I like something FIRMLY attached to my foot. I tend to be very absent minded. I am very likely to leave my shoe behind if it is not fully fastened.
And if you add HEELS to the equation-well…i fear for my ankles.
But what is practicality in the face of cute?
I went shopping.
I got some GREAT shoes. Some super high boots, with the new thin but wide heel. Very sexy, in a art deco macintosh pattern.
But these are not the CUTE shoes I am looking for. They are very hip and sophisticated, but not CUTE.
Perhaps I fear cute. I want to be taken seriously. But I want to be surprising, too.
Cute shoes. I must persevere to the cute.
There were some incredibly cute sandals for sale. They had beaded staps, and a big gem flower between the toes.
But I couldn’t decide which color. Hot pink? Electric Blue?
I chickened out.
But there were some other sandals on sale. They were a comfortable black, but they were studded with red stones.
They were pretty.
But they only had one little piece of leather over my foot. And they were about 3 inches of heel.
I’m wearing them today. Cute feet at work. It’s a little difficult, trolloping around in my strappy shoes, trying to remember to walk in such a way as to keep my feet in my shoes.
I’m catching myself, just as I slip off the edge of the shoes, or teeter on the verge of snapping off my ankle.
Beauty is hard. I wish I were a little more coordinated.
Maybe there’s a class I can take.
But i still feel very cute.