Admittedly, I am an anomaly. I choose to live outside the big city in a semi-rural town, and I am a self-proclaimed fashionista who loves to wear high heels. I’m the one in my small town people look at because I will get dressed up and wear high heels to go to the grocery store. “Why you so dressed up today, sweetie?” I smile, and say, “‘Cause I can.” Fill in whaaatevvvver accent you wish here. The image you create is of your own joyous making.
I literally live on pastoral acres with sprawling mountain and river views. And as someone who gets hung up on the semantics of words, I use literally, well, quite literally. My land was former cow pasture, but now it’s home. Without the cow patties. Think you couldn’t do semi-rural country living because it doesn’t afford you the amenities you like? Clearly, you haven’t heard of Amazon Prime and get so many deliveries that you know your UPS driver on a first name basis and hug him when he makes certain deliveries. It’s small-town America at it’s finest. Besides, when I blow my nose, nothing black comes out because I breathe clean, diesel-free air.
In my semi-rural home, I have an elaborate shoe collection. Some people collect art. My mother collects bells and cats (true story). I collect shoes. My husband calls it a problem. “Hi, my name is Paige, and I have a shoe problem.” I see shoes along the lines of orphaned beauties that need a home. I need to build a showroom. Somewhere between the designer Beverly Feldman, who built a shoe museum out of love for her beautiful shoes, and Imelda Marcos, who had a shoe museum made for the mass amounts of shoes she owned, I exist.
So I go into the big city the other day with a friend, which means a pair of the shoes in my collection got a Get Out of the Country Free pass. Oh, which shoes were going to speak to me that day?
These Börn beauts added panache to my navy eyelet skort and brought out the pink in my floral cami. Plus, they gave my short little self pretty good height. But I was going to be walking in the big city. Dilemma, right?
Not until you hear a little trick I learned – tape your 3rd & 4th toes together (going out from big toe). Apparently, there is a nerve that goes between those two toes, and putting pressure on it causes pain, and taping removes the strain. No strain, no pain. So, if you like to wear your heels, whether in the big city or the grocery store, get yourself some neutral colored medical tape, tape those little sausages up, & walk freely.
No medical tape? Good ole’ Scotch tape works well in a pinch, too.
And if you’re judging my terrible foot picture, good for you. You realize the authentic truth in our Dangerously Beautiful philosophy. I cannot do everything, nor do I care. First, I hate feet. Second, I left the nail polish on waaaayyyy too long from my last pedicure, and my toenails are healing from how brutally brittle they became. Third, I have eczema, and hardly any moisturizer works on my tooters.
But, damn, my shoes were cute with that outfit! Until the tape started to slide out of the toe beds of my shoes, looking like unnaturally pale, dead skin, because my feet got too sweaty in the 90 degree heat at 8:30pm. Then, I kept wearing my heels, and ordered an Uber. Upon entrance to his car, our cute driver commented, “Nice shoes.”
Always wear the heels.