Siamese twin buckles, patent leather reminiscent of little girl Maryjane's, and six stacked inches of wedged ecstasy are finally joining my militia of shoes.
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When a quasi-sporadic jaunt had us regaling any amount of apathy, my lax interpretation of frugality was tested. I was supposed to be Christmas shopping, but the slightest notion only manifested a spending floodgate that swung wide-open… breaching all self-discipline. So there I was, attempting a silent negotiation, yes-no-no-yes. And just like that, the holier-than-thou shoe gods had me by Gheppetto ’s strings, and were yet again exultant. In every conceivable ( shoe predicament ) way, it seemed a publicized threat to some bizzarro stylistic-existence, and obviously some things are beyond control. In the silver lining, there’s an upside to this inadvertent gluttony because these powerhouse Maryjane’s--with their patent leather and subtle contrasting edge--will always be there, for all those untamed days ahead. Seriously, there's more to me than just savage kicks... but in the words of Carrie Bradshaw, I suppose one day, "I will literally be the woman who lived
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Daaaamn.. AMAZING ♥
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