I’m thinking what I’ve lost in objective hotness I’ve gained in common sense and the ability to reason.  (I’m using the term “objective hotness” so my husband doesn’t try to reassure me that I’m still hot to him or at least lovable by bringing me home a box of chocolates that I will no scarf down, gain pounds I don’t need and thus become in my opinion actually less hot, although not in any way less lovable.)

My girlfriend Ronni and I popped into Steve Madden–end of summer sale, how can you not, blah de blah. Among the flats I eventually bought were these high-concept, architectural marvels, some four inches high, with fringes and patent leather patchees and cut-outs in the upper (think open-toe-and-heel boots, like a monokini for your feet) that I think I might have tried on some 15 years ago, in my 20s.

3042394663_efa979baf5.jpg

Photo by: THOR, CC Licensed 

Ronni was having none of it. She thought most of them were laughable, and if you think of them as shoes, she was correct. But if you think of them as little statuettes for your feet–kind of like wearing an Emmy or an Oscar–they were kind of awesome. I would be proud to have one on my mantle, if I had a mantle. And at one time I would have been proud (albeit sorry) to have had them on my feet.

When I went to pay for my flats ($23 down from $149!), I was telling Ronni how I can’t wear any heels anymore, and if I do, wedges are best. The saleswoman (maybe 25) was shocked. “I don’t know if shoes have gotten more uncomfortable or if my pain tolerance has gone down but I’m done done done with heels,” I said.

“It has to happen sometime,” she responded politely.

“Yes, well, it happened sooner than I thought.” She smiled blankly, in that way people who believe they will always be hot (and able to wear heels) will do when looking their future in the (finely lined) face.

I’m going now to download Die Young Stay Pretty on my Ipod. Great song, although not great advice.