It was time for a statement shoe -- well -- there was a strong desire for a statement shoe. According to Mr. Darling, it's never really time to purchase shoes of any kind until what you have is completely falling apart... and maybe not even then. I fully respect his practicality, however, practicality often takes a back seat to passion when it comes to a shoe lover's vision.
My mother and I were having a girls afternoon out with the Little Darling's in tow and our favorite department store was having a sale. We ran straight for the shoe department. As we admired the latest footwear and combed through the sale racks, we found a few, very well priced must haves. Then -- sitting right in front of me, as if pulsating with divine light, there they were, the perfect statement shoe for a care free summer night. They were bright, bold, completely outside my stylistic comfort zone, and had heels like skyscrapers. They were the creation of the fabulous Brian Atwood and they were exactly what I had been wanting. I scooped them up and quickly asked the sales associate for the mate. As I slipped them on and buckled the ankle strap, a series of outfits flashed before my eyes and I immediately knew that these tootsies had found their wild weekend getaway from reality. (Something every Mommy needs from time to time).
In the meantime, despite the fact that they were never left alone, this is what had been happening: Our darling daughter had made a stiletto pile of her own to try on and as I persuaded her to look with her eyes and not with her hands, her baby brother decided that the new collection of Valentino studded footwear needed a few Cheerios in each shoe (Ah, the joys of shopping with children). My mother lovingly took charge while I had been trying on the objects of my desire. I walked up to her, shoes adorning feet and she admired the radical-chic look: They look great - I love them ... but they're so high! You have two children. When are you ever going to wear them? How are you going to walk in them?
As I explained to her that these shoes would be reserved for date and girls nights out only, the littlest darling took off running. He ran through the shoe department and into Contemporary Wear. My immediate reaction was to run after him, Brian Atwood shoes and all. While my mother and daughter held down the fort of shoes, I chased and caught him before he could scramble behind the legs of a mannequin who, even in her state of blissfully unaware plaster, would no doubt mind being reduced to Humpty Dumpty.
I scooped him up and walked back over to my mom, the darling banshee sitting restlessly on my hip and my statement shoes clicking proudly on the ground. When I reached her, my mother's smile matched my own. "Well, I guess that answers that," she said. "I suppose they are comfortable". Very - was my response. It was then that we both broke out in laughter. My inner fashionista was giddy.
This Mrs. may have had two children, she may not always manage to look chipper and fresh but give her a pair of six inch heels and see her run like she's never missed a day in stilettos.
With love,
Mrs. Darling
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