BELLATRIX...

...ramblings of a fashionable sociopath

Thursday, May 31, 2012

shoe game


A girl walks into your periphery...you glance briefly for general assessment/threat potential. You scan the outfit, take note of accessories and critique the facade (i.e hair/make-up). If bland you move on. If interesting, or better yet, actually stylish you hone in on the SHOE GAME.
This is what separates the amateurs from the pros. This is how you tell if she "put on the first thing [she] saw" or wants you to think she did even though each detail has been meticulously planned (caveat: she may be a "top shelf"  whose closet is brimming with amazing-ness thus making any/every choice a killer).



Why do girls obsess over shoes? Many reasons I suppose. They are beautiful, often uncomfortable but oh so sexy, they are an expression of oneself as much as a car or a chic watch can be for a boy...they are art if done right. They make or break the outfit for those who give a shit about fashion.

But most importantly they do not age. Even when the face or body betray you and refuse to grab on to youth as much as you, your feet stay true. They do not gain weight, they do not wrinkle.. and thus a pair  of velvet hunter green wedge booties you knee-capped a girl on the street of Florence for retains it's value and ability to make you feel...beautiful. Shoes become vintage, never old

They are little pieces of art that have the strange ability to make you more confident...stronger...sexier...internally taller. They can influence the kind of day you will have, after all, a pair of worn in leather gladiators that feel like slippers have an inherently different undertone than those amazingly painful pumps that make your legs look nine miles long. A proper pair can seduce...can negotiate...can carry you through a disatser of a day. And when you see, nay FEEL, shoe envy of the girls scanning you when you walk into a room...well that's just the cherry.



Men may not understand, nor should they. But they may not judge when your closet consists of jeans, a few tanks and LBDs and one giant wall of shoes.
That's therapy.
That's girl crack.
That's purr-inducing happiness.

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