are Very. Naughty. Shoes.
They’re also Georgina Goodman and eighty-five percent off.
These are the shoes you wear when you’re going to have to see the ex who unceremoniously dumped you for a German amnesiac (I am not EVEN kidding) and although you’ve spent the past three months in your apartment spooning with your dog, watching Harry Potter and making fake frico by putting string cheese in your George Foreman Grill because you’re doing this low carb thing –since all the joy is gone from your life anyway you might as well give up pasta, too– you have a social event you CANNOT avoid and HE’S going to be there with his scary East German girlfriend and even though she got the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of his life with (who was too old for you anyway), you put on these shoes and your Third Date Dress, practice your imperious glare in the mirror just one more time, call your friends –who are just so excited that you’ve finally decided to bathe much less leave the house– and take solace that you’re WAY. FREAKING. HOTTER.
Not that that’s ever happened to me.