My sister says that they are evidence of the remaining traces of my Spice Girls fanhood.
I shamelessly, vehemently concur.
They are a little bit trickier to match than I thought though, since I need to be wary of crossing the thin, thin line between snazzy-kitsch and tacky. We shall see, we shall see!
Its like someone (who? You? Figment of my shoe-addled mind?) told me..so what if the shoe is ridiculous and you won't really wear it. The point is that you POSSESS it, and you can tell all you children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren (because surely being a shoe whore runs in the genes) what amazing shoes you once had.
On a more introspective note, working with Jenn on a prose piece she wrote has re-affimed a notion I've always had in my head. To quote Ms. Champion: "I only write in heartache. Never in love."
I've been trying to disregard (read: not think about it) the fact that the reason why I have not been writing anything - anything personal - is because I am happy. I love, and I'm in love..which means I feel so thoroughly grounded, with no frayed emotional threads at all that I feel settled. Content.
You'd think that would be a good thing.
Well, I was never that fantastic a writer anyway so perhaps, all is as it should be. Mmhmm, yeah keep telling yourself that.
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