gryson for target bag, which i picked up on saturday while on a furniture-shopping expedition with my friend k, who just bought her first house (!). i'd been coveting the bag for months, but couldn't bring myself to pay the $50 it cost, for some reason, even though i've bought articles of clothing that cost way more and that are of much cheaper quality. anyway, i finally got it for $25 -- half off! and in my defense, i needed a new black bag because oscar chewed on my other one and there are little teeth marks all over it. despite two friends' lukewarm reaction to it, i love it. i'm a big-bag person; i think this will be great for work and for toting around all the random stuff i carry with me. here's a link to the bag on the target web site; i think it looks like it costs way more than $50, especially in person. oh, and fyi, practically everything there is on sale. get thee to your local target immediately!
and now for a story about shoes from target. random, but semi-related.
i have an affinity for heels and wedges. whether i’m able to walk in them or not, i will always prefer a heel to a flat (with the exception of flip-flops, but that’s something else entirely). every may or june, i buy a pair of strappy wedges at target that are guaranteed to last me until at least august, at which point the ankle strap will fray and finally break, and i’ll go on a hunt for a new, more fall-and-“winter”-appropriate pair.
last summer, i was thrilled when i scored a pair of nude-colored wedges for something like $10. they fit perfectly, the breaking-in process didn’t hurt at all and they made me feel great. the only problem was that they were sky-high and i didn’t so much walk in them as i did totter. but i was able to plan some great outfits around them, so i didn’t really care.
until, that is, i came to work one hot july day of in one of my favorite green skirts and a brown top, wedges securely strapped onto my feet. i got up at about 10 a.m. to bring a job jacket to the art department and stopped, as i often do, to talk to one of our graphic designers. then, as i turned to walk back, the toe of my wedge caught the floor and i fell. but oh, dear reader, i didn’t fall forward – i fell backward.
thankfully, my head didn’t hit the ground and – also thankfully – the floor was carpeted. but i landed in cockroach position – i.e., legs straight up in the air. and i also landed right next to the desk of one of our new designers – an attractive 20-something guy who i'd probably unconsciously dressed up for that day (c’mon, we all do it). it’s a minor miracle that he didn’t see me fall and that i was able to scramble to my knees before he turned around to see where the resounding thump he’d just heard had come from. however, the rest of the art department had seen the entire wipeout (and my underwear), and to this day i can still see their reactions: mouths forming perfect o’s, followed by hysterical laughter when they realized i was ok. and i laughed, too; i mean, it must have looked hilarious.
anyway, you’d think that would teach me to put away the wedges for awhile, but no—after a day or two in flats or lower-heeled shoes, they were back with a vengeance. this time, i paired them with my favorite yellow smock top and dark green ankle-length pants. i was proud of myself for walking carefully all day and not so much as tripping once.
and then i got up to have my supervisor sign my time-off request, and as i turned to walk back to my desk, i felt the toe of my shoe catch – again. i immediately flashed back to the earlier scene in the art department, and some little part of me, even in that, “oh, shit, i’m about to fall!” moment, thanked god that i was wearing pants that day – although the thankfulness quickly disappeared as i dropped to my knees. at that point, i thought i was done falling – but nope, i lost my balance again and continued to the ground, eventually ending up boob-crushingly flat on my stomach, arms splayed out the side, legs bent at the knee, wedges akimbo. i could hear my supervisor and two of our other co-workers gasp and rush to see what happened; as i sheepishly stood up and dusted off my pants, cheeks flaming, i managed to squeak out an, “i’m ok! i’m ok…,” and then laugh and say that it was the second time i’d fallen in those very shoes.
to which my supervisor, who is a wonderful woman and who is also my mother’s age, gave a deadpan reply that still makes me laugh: “well, honey, if you see us on the floor like that it’s because we’re having a heart attack!”
it wasn’t long after that second fall that the ankle strap broke on that particular pair of wedges, and i gladly tossed them to the back of my closet, where they’re awaiting life in a garbage bag the next time i get enough motivation to clean out old clothes and shoes. i see them every so often when i’m digging for my last clean pair of underwear (a cue that it’s laundry day) or for an elusive gym sock. you’d think the memory of them would deter me from buying new wedges this year, but no – today my feet are ensconced in a great, super-strappy brown pair that, admittedly, make me feel much more balanced than last year’s – and are a wee bit lower in height, too. old habits die hard, huh?
and p.s. i certainly wouldn’t object to a pair of these, even though i’d probably break a bone in them. to quote the inimitable carrie bradshaw: "hello, lover!"
p.p.s. if you think this story is funny, it’s nothing compared to the time i got out of my friend’s car in the middle of a car wash drying cycle because i was convinced the car wash was broken. but that’s a story for another time.
(first photo above by moi; second photo via piperlime.)