Bobbie's post today inspired me to write a similar one.
I've been thinking about a very specific pair of shoes lately. Unlike most times that I think about very specific items of clothing, this pair of shoes actually exists; I did not design it in my head. I've been thinking about them because I want them. I do not have them because I missed my chance one year ago (one year!).
The facts are these:
Steve and I were in New Jersey for Easter and a wedding. The wedding invite was kind of last minute, so we didn't have any duds. We went to the mall, hours beforehand, to find appropriate wedding-wear that we could wear again in the future (because we're economic people).
Steve's sister Danielle was accompanying us, my first time interacting with her in person. First we went to a Macy's-like department store. The difference in the dresses she picked out for me and the dresses I picked out for myself was astronomical. I was thinking "sophisticated 20-something," she was thinking, "40 year-old virgin." I ended up with a pair of fiiiine black slacks, and we were off to Marshall's to complete the ensemble.
At Marshall's, I found several tops (all in the black family) and bought a couple, despite being told that black is inappropriate for a wedding (my defense: black is never inappropriate). I was enticed by the shoe racks, as I always am at Marshall's (or anywhere else for that matter), and I found these amazing, funky, loud-but-not-too-loud, green, snakeskin platforms. I wanted them immediately. They were the perfect POW! for an all-black outfit, especially at a wedding where the statement you want to make is: "This is a joyous occasion! I mean, look at these shoes!" They even fit.
But for some reason, even though I ignored Danielle's style advice for the entire afternoon, I listened when she disapproved of the shoes. And I have thought about them for an entire year.
I ended up buying some black espadrilles. Adorable shoes, but they were closed-toed and not as summer-friendly as they would be if they were peeps. I've worn them twice.
In the past year, I have never seen a pair of shoes that is even comparable to the one I let slip through the cracks; and I have to live with myself knowing that I'm never going to step on any in them.
There are two morals to this story:
1) Always buy something that you think you'll regret not buying later. If you regret buying it, you can always return it or sell it, but you may never see that perfect piece of merchandise again.
2) If you're ignoring someone's style advice for the better part of the day, don't start listening to it out of boredom.