Feb 18, 2010 6:23 PM
Shoe Catastrophe*
I have this knack for naming my things.
I called this particular pair of beaded bohemian open heel sandals "Catastrophe" (read it like a French word).
I bought it specifically because I didn't own any feminine apparel and I had to go to my first job interview ever. It barely had any heel to make me walk wobbly but I still managed to almost get a sprained ankle. This was how clueless I was with walking in feminine shoes.
My friend told me that I was overdressed for my job interview but that the shoes were nice. I don't know what came over me but whenever I looked at my shoes I would feel a burst of confidence. Only then did I realize what my shoe-addict friends get from wearing all those seemingly painful to wear shoes. Sure my toes were getting pinched, but I felt pretty. I felt confident. Sure enough, I landed a job offer that was higher than what I had hoped to get on my job interview. The funny thing is that the interviewer noticed my shoes and complimented them.
Little did she know that I got them from an unknown store in a little city in Laguna.
So I confidently left the building with a new job under my belt.
Then I slipped and that was the end of Catastrophe, my glittery pretty sandals. Wincing in pain, I walked as prettily as I could promising to only wear flats. Forever.
* Red Shoe Entry
I called this particular pair of beaded bohemian open heel sandals "Catastrophe" (read it like a French word).
I bought it specifically because I didn't own any feminine apparel and I had to go to my first job interview ever. It barely had any heel to make me walk wobbly but I still managed to almost get a sprained ankle. This was how clueless I was with walking in feminine shoes.
My friend told me that I was overdressed for my job interview but that the shoes were nice. I don't know what came over me but whenever I looked at my shoes I would feel a burst of confidence. Only then did I realize what my shoe-addict friends get from wearing all those seemingly painful to wear shoes. Sure my toes were getting pinched, but I felt pretty. I felt confident. Sure enough, I landed a job offer that was higher than what I had hoped to get on my job interview. The funny thing is that the interviewer noticed my shoes and complimented them.
Little did she know that I got them from an unknown store in a little city in Laguna.
So I confidently left the building with a new job under my belt.
Then I slipped and that was the end of Catastrophe, my glittery pretty sandals. Wincing in pain, I walked as prettily as I could promising to only wear flats. Forever.
* Red Shoe Entry
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