Ode to four girls and a city

Last week I went for lunch with my, nothing less than fabulous, friend Callaghan. We had a delightful Sunday lunch at Rueben’s where I gracefully ate twice my weight in smoked meat. Afterwards, we went to the near by shopping centre, since I promised Callaghan we would find him a jaw dropping dress shirt for his upcoming date. Just a little cotton courage for the road, or maybe a cotton and polyester blend.

On our way, we crossed the store window of a shoe store. The new fall line was in. So I did what any self-respecting woman would do: I squealed like a little girl and glued my nose to the window, not noticing the small circle of mist on the glass caused by my heavy breathing.

Callaghan looked on, beguiled, with a small smirk developing on his face, “Are you going to be ok? Should I be holding your hand?” he asked disturbing my perfectly good moment of awe.

“Shhhhhh, aren't they beautiful?”

I looked on as the new pretty shoes, each with its own personality and charming quirk rested on her individual decorative platform.

“I think you have a problem,” teased Callaghan.

“I think I've found my soul mate, you see, over there, that pretty blue one, with the exquisite heels. They'll probably warp my spine, but aren't they wonderful?” I whispered through the glass, “I shall call you Buttercup, and you shall be mine.”

As Callaghan giggled at my dialogue with my future shoe, he questioned my undying devotion to footwear.

“Blasphemy!” I whispered to not disrupt the shoes in their natural habitat. "They bring me joy and happiness. They define the emotion of the day, they can take me from a would be sweat-pants day to a sophisticated woman of the world day. They carry me through my day, literally, lifting me a couple of inches from the ground. With my height, proportionally, that's huge! They're really just a girl's best friend - they are all you need.”

“Hmmm… Have you ever thought that maybe you needed some human companionship? At this point I would even suggest any kind of human interaction, just to put your shoe dependency in perspective, of course.”

“People come and go, shoes will always be there. Let's go in, I'm adopting that blue pair.” I waved at the other shoes so they wouldn't feel left out and went inside to purchase a new friend.

And that night, on a would-be lonely Saturday night, I sat in my jammies, watching Law and Order with a tub of Rocky Road ice-cream. Except I was perfectly happy, sitting there on my bed wearing my shiny new shoes, feeling a full 3 inches taller.