Failed.
SATC1. Bliss. From start to end it's insomnia dressed up in sheep's clothing (!); a woollen blanket of adoration, jealousy and an urge to 'wahhh' quite regularly.
In hindsight I should've chosen Monty Python's 'The Life of Brian', I've not the foggiest why, but the film is always a great aid in putting me on the train the Noddyland.
As I lie in bed (thinking I'm Carrie, naturally) I've one thought on my mind. Shoes. Shoes. Shoes. Shoes.
Recently out of plaster for an ankle injury caused by a tubby-custard man teetering on the brink of morbid obesity (I'm being polite) I can only wear flats. How deflating. Especially with the festive season upon us, or should that be fetish-heel season?
I've a dramatic amount of dresses, copious amounts of clothing that all need a heel. Of course there's the option of a Manolo Blahnik flat, perhaps even a manoeuvrable Nicholas Kirkwood (yes there are a few) but surely my first purchase of such enmities should be a statement heel? Brushing revenue woes aside, what's a weak ankled girl to do?Run the risk of eternal damage, or be the pip-squeak of the pack.
Still, in a recent interview, Mr B noted that flats (yes flats) can be sexy;
(Reasonable) answers on the back of a postcard.
From left; the Paternona range (Manolo Blahnik), Nichola Kirkwood flats (image from fashioneditoratlarge.blogspot)
Post Script.
On a lighter-(footed)note, finally decided on Mother's present; a calendar with lovely images adorning it. Available on boots.com, you simply upload images & the 12 month friend is with you within a week. That's another hour of digging out old snaps to amuse me then. I'm so glad I took scanning to new extremes 2 years ago by scanning in … every snap-shot I owned.
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