A short tale of Dexterous Shoe shopping and nefarious little shop assistants

In Search of Objectivity.

Perhaps there is a lot to be said for the whole “grass being greener on the other side because there’s just more shit” vibe… I can after this weekend totally understand that…

While in the peaceful land of not relationship I was merrily wandering around, as if in a shoe shop, trying on a pair here and there. I had managed to pick up a particularly nice pair of velveteen peep toes in soft brilliant black.

Not quite ready to pay for these shoes, I didn’t want to put them back either in the event that I will be purchasing them later on. I actually wanted them I just had to get some advise, to see if they are practical and not just an extravagance that I would later on regret.

Whilst the majority of my faithful crew of CTB’S and CTCB’s already bought shoes, and some were trying on their own pairs, I failed to find a friend to consult… thus I moved on to the next best thing… that being a shop assistant. (A shop assistant, in this case is an acquaintance relevant to the thing or person you want or want information about) But heed my warning ladies, as a shop assistant is always there to benefit from any deal she makes, whether it be in your favour or not…

I put on the black velveteen peeps and stood in front of the mirror “How do they make my calves look?” I asked “Oh great, are they comfortable?”

“I guess” I said.

She stood behind me with her index finger on her mouth and one eyebrow raised.

“What?” I said

“I can’t place it. It’s just… no, they’re fine. You like them so it’s fine.” She purred.

“No seriously, what’s wrong, I do like them, but I haven’t bought them. They are comfortable but if they seem wrong, tell me!” I said, now standing with one shoe in my hand the other still on and turning from back to front, to see if I can spot the “I don’t know so much” that she is talking about.

Finally I think I see it “Oh, you don’t think they are too high? I haven’t worn such high heels for ages.” I croon, in hope for some solid, exact advice.

“Yes well I don’t want to put you off, but lots of ladies have bought them, I just think you should have something better, you know – more you.”

I take the other shoe off and reluctantly make to put them back into their box.

Just then, one of the CTB’s on my own team spot this move, and come gliding to my rescue…

“Sweet, they are so nice, why you taking them off? And that face?… get them, they are perfect.”

She ushers me to the payment counter, and looks on expectantly while I fish in my bag for my wallet. The helpful shop assistant behind the counter opens the box to check that it’s the correct pair. “Aaahh, these are so great! And it’s the last 39 we had left. I Was rather hoping no one would buy them.” She smiles “You know, I wanted to get them at the end of the month.”

With this, I glance back at the lanky blonde sales assistant that was helping me, she half smiles then turns around to put other tried on shoes back into their boxes.

Fucking bitch, I think to myself… Then I remember seeing her out, it dawns on me – she is in fact just another want to be CTB, only she works in the shoe shop during the day times…

Heed my warning friends, shoe shopping, like ATM (boyfriend) shopping is a dangerous business. Everyone wants that pair of shoes or that gorgeous man you have on your arm, and you do have fabulous taste after all.

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If I were a BALENCIAGA handbag

If I were I Balenciaga handbag, I would still be nice to lesser handbags. I would hang on my masteress’ shoulder and faithfully carry her things. I would be filled with Woolies slips, Chanel gloss, pens, paper and loose change. I would sit on the kitchen counter when my carrier went home. I would be happy and soft and I would never be misplaced, for such is the fate of a beautiful Balenciaga bag. Amen.

http://www.balenciaga.com/us/en/balenciaga/Women/Handbags/ShoulderBags.aspx#Giant day/media/8030642681