So shallow. Isnt it fun?

July 15, 2009

Look at these shoes. Seriously, look at them.


They are beautiful. Seriously sexy shoes. From the skyscraper heel- to the zip up the heel seam that implies dominatrix- to the platform which makes them appear difficult to walk in, but actually reduces the heel by an inch.  A duck egg blue, that allows you to look like you are wearing acid brights, but which actually is muted enough to make them versatile.

Now I know for a fact, that several of you will be looking at these shoes, and thinking that only a sado masochist would consider walking in them. I am fairly sure that some of you will be reading this, in disgust, that any woman who describes herself as a feminist,  could possibly see these shoes as anything but a mysogynistic symbol of womens subservience, and patriarchal oppression through objectification of women.

But I dont care. I am shallow. And I love these shoes. As someone who has been in heels since the age of 10, and who prayed throughout her adolescent that the almish clumpy heels of the nineties would go away, while I was still young enough to enjoy the resurgence of the stiletto, I am saying out in the open- I covet these shoes. I want them.

And as luck would have it- the yearly renewal of my tax credits, resulted in an extra payment this week. An unexpected windfall- which I am absolutely aware should not be spent on these shoes. I know that my rent is due in two weeks, and although it is covered, should ensure that I dont have a weeks panic- by NOT buying these shoes.

I am aware that I have bills that are more pressing. But actually, with some mathematical gymnastics, that would defy Einstein- but which are totally logical. I can actually afford these shoes. I have managed to reduce the cost of the train tickets to my holiday by twenty quid, and as the shoes are already half price- that means I have saved sixty whole great british pounds sterling. Which in effect means that these shoes are twenty quid. Which means not only can I afford to buy them, but not to buy them, would be an act of such financial stupidity, and fiscal irresponsibility, that I could not live with myself if I didnt. Also tis my birthday next week….

So I opened up the webpage, and gleefully pressed BUY. Then I went through another window, and pressed BUY. Then I went through another window, entered more personal information about myself than my closest friends know. Am fairly sure that they wanted a cervix measurement, and a potted sexual history- and then the message. ‘There was a problem with your order-please check and try again’. I go back, I check the card details, I check the address, I check to ensure there is actual cash available to buy said shoes. I check to ensure that the myriad of information the Dune website wants from me- and hey presto-NO BLOODY JOY!!! Please contact your issuing bank. THe problem isnt my issuing bank, its your bloody website. I go through the contact details- I send them an email. Nothing. Naddah.

I have the money to buy my shoes. I have the visions of me wearing these shoes with a yellow cashmere/wool mix dress, or with a beautiful white silk dress, with a blue and yellow oriental print round the bottom. And I cant have them.

The problem is bastardisation of free market economics. I have decided.  The customer is supposed to be king, and consumer sovereignty means that supply and demand will mean that the market will always provide what the customer needs. Basic principle of free market economics? Well, when the distance between the customer and the business is now so vast, and there are so few ways for the two communicate-without pressing upteen buttons, going through seventy six million call centres, with six zillion menus, before you reach an apology monkey, with less power than you- who really cant help- cos thats the system. Consumer is no longer king. And I cant have my shoes.


One comment

  1. your shoe Godmother is here.. ta dah!!!!!

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