I will admit to throwing lots of money around when it comes to certain things like travel and dog food (but not with coupons [stabs self in eye]), but I've always prided myself on being a bargain shopper. Shoes, furniture, cars, you name it and I can usually tell you where to get it for less.
However, when the Women of Atlanta (en masse, it seemed) began wearing Tory Burch shoes (and everything else), I will admit to feeling a little envious of that circular gilt emblem gracing everyones toes. Except mine. I'm more of a flip flop girl, but those colors! The ballet flats!
My envy reached fever pitch when I spotted a pair of wooden wedges that were a bright, patent metallic silver. I had to have them. I waited almost a full year and then, one day on eBay, I found a pair of size 10's. Before you can say, "Bob's Your Uncle," the deal was done and they were on their way to me.
About the same time, I received an invite from my Sis-in-Law to her birthday party that was to be held at the Tory Burch Boutique! Everyone attending would receive 20% off! Champagne would be served! How could I resist?
When I signed the sales receipt, I proclaimed, "Well, that's not bad at all!" "That's not bad" a friend of Sis-in-Law said, "are you kidding?" I stumbled towards my car, clutching my fancy Tory bag that held two pairs of ballet flats (lavender suede and silver leather!), slightly deflated. A bit of buyer's remorse and a bit more champagne made for a slightly subdued drive home.
But then I began wearing my precious shoes and my remorse was forgotten.
Until last week. When I came home from a quick trip to the grocery store and discovered both silver flats laying side by side on my entryway rug. One had the entire insole ripped out and the other was sporting a half-dollar sized hole in the heel. And the dog that did it picked one up in her evil mouth and threw it up in the air, like a performing seal. She even barked at me.
Complete and total cardiac arrest. I dropped to one knee, dropping the groceries all over the floor while I cradled my poor, broken beauties. "How could you?" I shouted at the puppies, who immediately retreated to safety positions. "How could you?" I cried as I examined my ruined labels of Atlanta feminine chic.
I spent the rest of the night drinking wine and cussing at the dogs. I knew it was really my fault, but what had my hard earned $180 gotten me? Nothing. The expensive shoes met the same fate as the cheap flats that the damn dogs had destroyed a few weeks earlier. Except that the cheap shoes didn't have cardboard in the insole. Swear to god. My Tory's were partially made of cardboard. F*ck me.
That was a bitter pill to swallow, believe me.
You're all invited to my Holiday party next December. I'll have a fabulous new tree topper. It's silver, looks like a shoe and has the cutest round silver emblem on the toe.