I had breakfast with my mother today and she told me an interesting little tidbit of a story: when I was three years old we were having Thanksgiving dinner with some friends. As we went around the table and said what we were thankful for we got the usual responses of good health, happy family, Scotch, those sorts of things. When it was my turn I said the thing I was most thankful for was Elizabeth Taylor. I was born to love style.
My mother also said something unbelievably cruel to me today. In fact, I get weepy just thinking about it all these hours later; when I asked her if she wanted to hit the Nordstrom's shoe sale she said: "You don't need any more shoes." I know, I know, ice water runs through her veins. I, of course, told her that need had nothing to do with it. I am now even more convinced that I sprung from the oyster colored 4-inch heels of life rather than from my mother. Clearly. Otherwise, how could she think such a thing and be even slightly related to me?
Shoes are like food: delicious and and utterly necessary for continued existence.
Today's favorite shoe:
Thursday, June 07, 2007