Yesterday, I fell down. Booze is not what did it-for I drink not. No ‘slippery when wet’ sign going unheeded, no really exceptional reason—except for the extra inch or two, or maybe even three on my shoes meeting a one diameter evil pebble placed in my path and, solely, for the purpose of demonstration and to make the point. The very sharp point … the point sticking out of my hand which stopped the fall from being just embarrassing to ambulance-needy.
For centuries the pairing of pumps (high-heeled shoes) and pebbles were cause for disconcerting and border-line disturbing… little displays of how they don’t get along and falling over is the venue it steadily or unsteadily took to insist against this notion. That these two could possibly come together and get along and find some middle, or pebble-free ground has remained an unsolved mystery even comical.
For centuries women’s fashion has been getting really complicated to wear or utilize… somewhat dangerous. The ‘Wash in gentle cycle’ label has become an undergarment understatement. More accurately delineated would be ‘Wear on deserted island, where head hunters aren’t interested in clothing and losing your balance and falling—just makes the capture all the more hassle-free’… Having read this, Id pass this item up and move right along and opt for something requiring Woolite for fine washables. The only danger here is if your cat thinks its liquid cat-nip…dumb cat.
But enslaving ourselves to the trends is what we now take Hollywood-serious– enough to sometimes want to defy the laws of nature and pebbles in our way and go out there regardless to try to conquer the really,really long day with its impending natural elements with our own unnatural-ly high-heeled shoes. Or ‘Stop breathing-Skinny’body girdles’, or ‘Peel-your-second-layer-epidermis’leggings and the most favorite yet feared ‘Nick Yourself Senseless Close-Shave Women’s razors’.
Completely in an effort to look terrific, but bruisy.