Fa, la, la, la, la…
‘Tis the season for popsicle toes, galoshes and snow banks.
Heh, just kiddin’, ya’ll. Down here in Houston it’s a balmy 73 degrees today, which means I’m donning my black, stiletto, Charles David, strappy sandals for a trip to the salon on the corner and a mani-pedi. My popsicle toes will be brightly colored ones, not chilly piggies.
Which reminds me, I so miss my neighborhood shoe store that closed down. It was just about the size of a shoebox but stocked amazing shoes. That’s were I got these Charles Davids, and about a zillion other shoes. They always had a 75 percent off rack in the back. There was nothing like walking out of there with four, five pairs of shoes at a time. Retail therapy is so much better than time spent on the couch. Then there was Fourth & Towne’s closing. Five pairs for $15 a pop. Including a peep-toe, rope wedgie. Alas, now I’m content with Nordstrom’s shoe department. Don’t get me wrong, they’re the mother ship for shoes, but they don’t always have such steep discounts.
But I digress; it’s off to the salon now, where the girls — in their darling open-toed Choo knock-offs from Harwin Street, insist on something festive and bright red. OPI Vodka & Caviar anyone? Yummy.
Oh! Maybe Santa Baby will bring me the real Choos this year. (And I don’t mean a toy train.) Fa, la, la, la, la, ya’ll!