Reading: Blind Assassin

Moving: don't even ask this week

Watching: a bunch of ugly shoes

Learning: I...I...I like shoes. Take my temperature. Take my pulse! Take my impulses, too.

25 September 2000: Shoes

This is what I want: centralization. Very bad, I know. This is why I want it: so that I can type "shoe" into the address bar of my browser--boy, the kids ten years from now are going to laugh at that, "type"?--which will lead to a site with every shoe currently bought, sold, or processed. ("I don't want to sell anything, buy anything or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed... or buy anything sold or processed... or process anything sold, bought or processed... or repair anything sold, bought or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that.") I will then indicate "grey" (not "gray"), "cloth" (which could mean linen, satin, silk, etc.), that the heel should be <2.5", and that I would prefer but am not devoted to the idea of a mule. Then all of the shoes fitting that description would trip across my screen, which would be larger and able to convey in some way the hand of the fabric. And I would be able to afford the shoes because there would be fewer middlemerchants. Shoes at physical stores would be more expensive because you'd be paying for the experience of shopping as well as the rent of the building and the wages of the staff. And that's what I want, except I want it for all possible merchandise.

Monday I looked for shoes. We didn't finish supper until almost 7:30, and RDC asked if I really wanted to go out. I did. I was dressed with my teeth brushed and in the car by 7:33, and all the way down in Park Meadows by 7:55. I was watching the clock, of course, and it took me longer to go the few miles on Colorado Boulevard than the considerably longer stretch of the highway. Despite the prospect of Phish in two days, I didn't bring any discs in the car. If anyone doubted I am a staid grown-up, proof: I sang loudly along to "Only the Good Die Young" as I zoomed up to the Nordstrom door. Of course, I was zooming; I love to drive fast on highways. You never can get any speed up in the city. Ooo, fifth gear! And of course Billy Joel is such a rocker.

So I looked for shoes. I had high hopes for Nordstrom, because I am consistently pleased with their quality and service. What I had in mind was a grey cloth mule. I saw such a pair at the Foley's in Cherry Creek on Friday, but no clerk could find my size. I could have acquired exactly what I wanted for five times as much as I was willing to spend. There were linen mules in cream, pastel blue, and pink that didn't go with either dress (both of which I brought with me), and beautiful black embroidered satin mules that go with absolutely nothing I have.

I don't know why I am fixated on mules. Perhaps because I found myself liking shoes for the first time in my life, these heelless creations with louis heels. That was the style I had most in mind. I went through Nordstrom, then Foley's (which had the mule I saw Friday but not in my size), then Dillard's. I didn't go into J.C. Penney. I might another time. I went into a shoe store called Marmie that I thought, by its name, ought to be reassuring and full of every comforting thing, but which was not. My last call was at Nine West.

What gets into people who make last-minute, desperate buys? I found a pair of satin pumps in the exact shade of mauvey maroon of one of the dresses. The dress's one of those two-layer things, a pale slate blue opaque underlayer and a transparent overlayer in a darker slate blue with printing that looks like embroidery in navy and mauve around the bodice, and furthermore, it shimmers mauve as well. CLH gave it to me for my birthday last year. This is what I wanted to wear to EJB's wedding. They were proper heeled pumps, not mules, but they were the right color! I thought of Treehorn's mother, who wound up with a hat shaped like a shoe because it was the right color of green. I did try them on, honest I did, but I was wearing jeans. I shouldn't've; I can't get an idea of a dress shoe when over it I see a faded denim cuff. And I didn't try them on for long, because heels with jeans are never a good idea.

and and and *

So I brought them home, put on the dress, and then put on the heels.

What was I thinking? The dress is long to my ankles and it's a late afternoon, high-end wedding, so I'd say a 3" heel is okay in theory. But not on me. I couldn't walk them, not more than the few steps I took at the store. They're sexy, agreed RDC, but completely impossible. He waxed boyish here and didn't understand why I couldn't wear black pumps with the dress, even though these are square practical pumps that I wear to work, even though they're matte black leather and this is slate blue chiffony floaty dress. But not so boyish he wanted me in heels at any cost (to my feet or our budget).

Which means I'm shoeless. A shoe clerk asked what I've worn with these dresses before. I've worn the brown leather sandals that are my summer staple and now at the end of their second season. They are worn and stained and not at all weddingy. I wore them to Dexy and Clove's wedding, but that was a backyard barbecue and doesn't count and besides I might have been barefoot.

* That's how pale the lavender of the wall is.