I tend to shy away from wearing all black because A) It’s boring, B) My cat has a big white shaggy belly, and C) All Black is the ubiquitous uniform of members of the service industry, and when I wear it I can’t shake the feeling that I have to go to work. But I’m feeling subdued today. Maybe it’s the clouds, the rain, the cold. Maybe it’s that I just ovulated, or that I’m feeling a lonely streak resulting from my herculean effort to stay home once in a while. Maybe it’s the sight of my tomato plant still struggling to produce fruit while its leaves yellow and its vines whither, a testament to the inevitable victory of mortality over creation, the victory of failure over effort. Whatever it is, I haven’t been reaching for my red dress. I want to cloak myself in shadows and disappear.
The real revelation here is that dressing in black didn’t make us disappear at all. It made us look very thin, elegant, and mysterious, and provided an excellent backdrop for our accessories. For our subtly macabre gun casing and feather earrings. For the sexy grandma turban hat and art deco necklace. For our sleekly perfect, smooth, beautifully constructed 4-inch stilettos with the just-right toe and breathtaking vamp.
Oh my God these shoes.
They’re so classy the labels on the boxes they come in are written in Latin. They. Are. Beautiful. The leather is stiff but supple, like a ballerina’s leg. The insole is smooth, creamy, and flawless. They’re so perfectly shaped, so perfectly proportioned, so perfectly perfect that they don’t look real. These are cartoon shoes. Jessica Rabbit wears these shoes, Betty Boop wears these shoes, Blondie Dagwood wears these shoes, but humans? Humans like us? Not until now. And they come in FREAKING ORANGE!
Black, orange and beautiful. I just might be a grown-up for Halloween this year.