Every girl needs one pair of designer shoes. It’s a defining moment; a right of passage and a sense of having arrived. I imagine it’s the same feeling a guy gets with achieving surround sound. I still have the first pair of designer shoes I ever bought. Three inch, Black, strappy Jimmy Choo heels that buckled around the ankle. They were brilliant, sexy, sophisticated and cost me half a month’s rent. I bought them four years ago for a friend’s wedding at the Beverly Hills Hotel.
Those shoes were about the only thing I hadn’t kicked off when I myself was kicked out of the hotel after the concierge caught me making out with one of the groomsmen in a broom closet. Since then I’ve gotten them stuck and torn in a subway grate, suffered blisters and broken straps, and had the soles replaced three times. But I don’t care. If they’re worth their salt, chances are you’ve worn your shoes to some pretty amazing places. All the battle scars are reminders of where you’ve been; the good times and, in some cases, the bad times. And in the end, if you’ve chalked up more good memories than bad, your fabulous pair of shoes are worth the money you scraped together to buy them. Because let’s face it, retail therapy may be cliché, but damn if it doesn’t work!