I work in downtown Portland, and have a required 1-hour lunch break. My life is so terrible, right? Anyway, since it takes me approximately 10 minutes to eat my brown bag lunch, I often have time to wander around the city and pop into stores to pet pretty things.
One of my consistent haunts is the Nordstrom Rack shoe section. I'm not sure why I do this to myself, because 3 out of 5 times, I'll leave the store practically sobbing because I've found the PERFECT shoe at the PERFECT price, but don't have the kind of life that necessitates that shoe. Allow me to explain. As those of you that have read this blog for awhile can attest to, I have a rather tacky aesthetic. More often than not, I like jewels that are about 15 rhinestones too big, heels that are 2 inches too high, and dresses that are a size too tight. However, my life as a 20-something gal who works part-time doing data entry and goes to school does not require 5-inch sparkly heels. OK, maybe they're more like 4.5 inches. STILL. To mitigate the inevitable sadness that accompanies these lunchtime jaunts, I've decided to look at shoes in a new way.
And before you say it, no, I've never thought of simply not going to look at shoes during my lunch break.
Now when I ascend that magical escalator into shoe heaven, I'm armed with a set of delusions to apply to each and every pair of shoes! No, those 4-inch black patent platforms aren't the best for biking around Portland, but when I eventually drop out of school and quit my day job, they will be perfect for my new position as an apprentice to a dominatrix. Those gold Nike Dunks? The ideal shoe for side hustling as a DJ/breakdancer. And lacy white pumps? Looks like I just found my Vegas wedding shoes.
If all fashion is grounded in fantasy, why not invent your own ridiculous narratives to add to the fun?
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