Subconsciously, my whole body seemed to move around the store with her. With my eyes fixed on her bag, of course. I'm sure she must've thought otherwise about my reasons for (subconsciously) stalking her.
But alas, it is not to be so. Since I have decided not to become swept away with the popular phenomenon that masses and masses of money (which could be used in saving those poor kids in Mozambique that often frequent our TV screens,by - the - by) MUST be spent to prove one's fashion savviness (hence my want of just two designer items), this obsession does not sit well with my psyche.
Well, not anymore.
it seems I HAVE to nab myself a pair (or two... jeez make that a lifetime) of Miu Miu's. I've obsessed about them for awhile now; actually make that since I knew anything about fashion, or whatever. But the urge to own a pair has never been as STRONG as it is these days.
I don't know what they put in those cats. Or swallows. Or elephants.
Or whatever bloody animal is on the darned shoes. Because every time I see a pair, I want it more than... Well, I would say marriage, but that would be so fickle. Plus i'd be lying majorly.
But you must get the picture about HOW OBSESSED I AM, and how this obsession refutes my being anti - expensive designer items. Those shoes are NOT cheap, in the slightest.
I am still in love, however. Not the mushy, Mr Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet type (Well.. when they get there in the end), but more the weirdo, I - want - you - so - much - it - hurts - and I can't do anything about it type love. Like Edward and Bella. Yes, I know, i'm referring to Twilight whilst obsessing about shoes. I'm hoping this paints you a vivid enough picture of how much I want at LEAST a pair, for now.
you see these? Oversized rocks? Not my thing. But these? EL perfecto. Don't ask why..
You see, right now, I wish, just for a milisecond to be an Upper East Side-r, with more money than sense and Consuela as a maid, get these babies, and have my normal life back. Consuela is not necessary though...
Don't have that many black shoes, but I can assure you, these will never leave my feet. If I owned a pair, that is.
...And! *Drumroll PLEASE*, my knock offs. Which were chump change actually, and the only Mary Jane-esque shoes I own.
Except I haven't worn 'em, despite having them since last Christmas. I don't go 'out' that often to snazzy events to wear them, and even so, I look like the girl version of Shaq when I put them on (bar the muscles and all, I was referring to his height). But i'm determined to wear more heels now, and embrace my height. Why the heck not, eh?
P.S: Sorry for the crappy photos, the second one was clearly an attempt at being 'innovative' with a camera. Didn't work though. *shrugs*. What can I say, I write, paint, knit, sew and sing. Photography doesn't agree with me, unfortunately. So sorry again.
But yeah. Any potential fairy godmothers or do- gooders out there that wanna give me a pair or sell them for the same price as my knock - offs (four quids from this little charity shop... YES), please feel free to contact me. PLEASE.
I think it's time for me to leave now, my mother must be questioning my leave of absence from her presence...
Plus all this obsession is doing me NO good whatsoever.
Hence, I must depart.