Sunday, 13 June 2010

new shoes

I wish I were brave enough.
I wish I didn't mind other people's reactions (too much): what does it matter if they think I'm weird? They would be closer to the truth than they think.

Few days ago I thought I had gathered enough courage.
I saw her. I started walking in her directions.
10 m, I can do it.
8 m, no harm in asking.
5 m, yes! I can!
3 m, see? It's not as hard as I thought! I can do it!
1 m... no, I can't do it! S**t! Duck now!

I've chickened out.
Once more.

How hard could it be to ask that girl I saw at the metro station: "Those shoes are lovely, can you tell me where you bought them?"
Now, in Italian, this question does not evoke any pathetic pick-up line, so there is not even the danger of being considered a lousy molester.
And moreover, it's one of the few sentences I can remember in Japanese!
Yet, I let her walk on by.
Even more tragically, her lovely sandals walked away too! Oh, if only I could turn back time.

I wanted to get a new pair of sandals, so I was on the lookout for something that was not my usual choice, the Birkenstock.

Now before venturing into the recount of my past few weeks life, let's make it clear. Shoes  follow one very simple, basic, universal rule: a girl will never ever have enough shoes (cf. Imelda Marcos for cross-reference).

Shoes and shoe-shopping are somehow imprinted in any XX human being's DNA. I don't think of shopping as something I happily do and I'm quite agoraphobic: in a society built upon shopping malls, I struggle to not give up before starting when I have to buy something.
Still, I feel the pull to stop in front of each and every shoe shop windows.
It doesn't matter that I walk by the same window each day.
It doesn't even matter whether I need or not a new pair of shoes, because the shoe-shopping flowchart is quite clear about the concept of "needing new shoes":

(yes, I'm a geek)

Easy, right?
Not really. As usual, translating a flowchart into reality is messier and harder than it looks like. Why? Well, because a flowchart considers the world as a straightforward, unambiguous place, where nothing comes in between you and your shoes.

But in the real world, something horrible happens: fashion trends.
It's obvious that a good number of designers vehemently and passionately hates women and their twisted and perverse plot is to create ugly and uncomfortable shoes.
In this plot, they're aided by a secret society of masochistic women, that happily buy and wear the above-mentioned shoes.

So here I am: I need and want a new pair of shoes. What can I do?
Step #1: Check nearby shops.
Step #2: Check markets and supermarkets.
Step #3: Extend research to online shops and catalogues.
Step #4: Start looking in small cities nearby.

I've been around several shops, walked a lot, was about to check if there was any class to learn how to make shoes by myself... nothing
I had to deal with many attacks of gloom and desperation: "Oh no! I will never get the shoes I want. I will die alone, forgotten and shoeless!!!".

I couldn't see any solution. However, as one of my friend Miky's colleague once said: if you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, you just have to settle down for a while and start decorating the tunnel.
I started decorating then and by pure chance, as I was moving a pile of magazines, I found (and bought) these:

my new sandals

Virgi, happy ever after... or until the next pair, at least.


  1. Just buy the damn shoes already! :)

    Now listen Virginia, before you come back to Southwood, if you happen to see a bottle of Nazareno Gabrielli spray perfume deodorant (I got it in an Italian supermarket for £4) get it for me and I'll pay you back. My bottle is almost gone and I haven't been able to find it anywhere in the UK or anywhere online that will send it to me. xx

  2. I've never seen it, but I will pay attention on my next grocery trip to the supermarket!