This may well sound heretical to most of the members of my sex, but I’m going to say it and risk reproach anyway: Enough with the shoes.
I know. I know. I’m a woman. An adult, human, American woman. I am supposed to love shoes. Not just love them; lerve them. Flove them. Adore them. Kneel before their beauty, tremble in their glow. Stop dead at store windows displaying a perfect Prada pump; shiver with delight at the flash of a red Louboutin sole. But lately: well, the whole shoe mania thing is leaving me cold. And a little (dare I say it?) pissed off. Continue reading