tobermory's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sex in the suburbs This should be just swell. My favorite pair (and only*) of brown sandals blew out a strap the other day. Hopefully because they are fairly expensive Cole-Haans it means that they are repairable. The closest shoe repair to where I work is in Randhurst Mall. So I googled it to figure out exactly where in the mall the shoe repair shop is so I can park close and what do I find? Swell. Ms. Horsey-Face herself, Sarah Jessica Parker, is appearing at the Steve & Barry’s in Randhurst at 2pm as some sort of promotion for her Bitten clothing line. I imagine the parking situation will be just fantastic. The mall will probably be swarming with tragic suburbanites wearing oversized silk flowers pinned to their shoulders and channeling their inner Carries. I’d drop off my shoes on another day but I want to pick them up next Wednesday. I recall many years ago I broke off the little plastic sole piece on one of my heels and I didn’t have another pair of back-up shoes with me so I hustled over to the repair shop and limped in to save the bottom of my shoe and asked nicely if they could tack on a new heel while I waited. They did it but with much eye rolling and sighing at the way I was inconveniencing them by asking them to do this NOW, so I figure I better plan ahead and give them some time, especially since this is probably going to be a more complicated repair. I can’t wait to continue this after lunch so I can report back about the tarted up SJP wannabes. * I think they’re the only pair. My closet is in a shambles right now so digging around isn’t an option, but I’m pretty sure that this pair is the one and only pair of brown sandals. Shocking considering that I probably own 100 pairs of shoes and boots. Since I’m going to be at the mall anyway and since sandals are probably on sale, I might take a gander at what’s available in the brown sandal selection. Especially good timing since Steve is out of town and I won’t have to sneak them into the house. Call me Imelda! The mall was a total clusterfuck. There were great clumps of women wearing their sparkliest tank tops and funkiest capris, and I did indeed see one silk flower. Gah. The anchor store was having a huge Lancome event and it was packed with make-up artists daubing and dabbing their victims with various unguents. I checked out the shoe selection and actually had a pair of black sandals in my hand but it reminded me of a pair that I think are somewhere in my closet. I guess it’s really time to dig through and see what’s in there. I should go the whole Martha route and take pictures of the shoes and paste them to the outside of the boxes so I know what the hell is in there. Maybe this would stop me from buying my umpteenth pair of black boots. Doubtful. Instead, I went completely off list and bought two dresses. One is a fairly utilitarian black print with a nice v-neck but the other is a totally va-va-voom aqua blue sundress. It has a dirndl-esque top that basically says, “here (or hier if we’re going with the German theme) are my breasts – admire their hiked-up loveliness.” It’s truly a boob-tray, but day-um! do I ever look good in it! And as if I needed more ego stroking now, it’s a size 10. Dinner last night: no sandwich. Since Steve was leaving today for a weekend-long soccer tournament he wanted to have a nice dinner with me. We took a half-bottle of wine and walked (extra exercise!) up the street to the BYOB brick-oven pizza place. We split a salad and a spinachi ultra-thin crust. Yum. 2:40 p.m. - 2007-08-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||