Wednesday, May 04, 2005
I know a little place, we can get there for the break of day.
I said in these shoes?
No way, jose
I said honey, let’s stay right here.
- Kirsty Maccoll
Corker. Stunner. Red-hot mumma. Call her what you will but this girl was summit else. Renee Headliner take a jump and make room for the cutest cobbler on Lambton Quay. She had it all, the looks, the body, hell even her voice was the sweetest I’d heard since Patsy Riggir.
It should be the simplest thing in the world, buying a pair of shoes from a pretty girl, but yesterday it was fraught with frustration and indecision. It went something like this.
I saw a pair of boots I liked in the window, went in, saw her, caught my breath, picked up the boots and approached her with them in my hand like a retriever bringing home a stick.
I… I’d like to try these on please.
Shorwa, she said, take a seat.
From there it should have been easy but ten minutes later I was surrounded by more black leather than the first day auditions for Goth Idol. I must have tried on at least six pairs of very similar boots at least twice. My feet seemed to fall between two sizes. My angel was getting frustrated. This wasn’t going well at all.
No, they’re the 42’s
The 44’s?
The 42’s look bigger.
Than the 44’s?
Yes the 44’s.
Try the 43’s.
In what style?
Those ones.
These ones?
Didn’t I already try these on?
No… Do you need a shoehorn?
Too tight I’m afraid, let me try those ones in the 44’s.
But the 44’s don’t fit you.
But they’re bigger than the 43’s
Smaller. Remember?
She’d wrapped me in her delicate cocoon of confusion and I stared, transfixed by those beautiful green eyes. Getting sleepy now…
You know what sweetcheeks? Let’s forget the boots and go get a drink, is what I should have said. But I didn’t. Instead I smiled sweetly, looked her in the eye and rammed my oddly sized foot into yet another piece of cowhide. And whaddaya know?
We looked to each other, to the boot, then back to each other again.
Could this be the one?
She was excited as Cinderella, and I was as pleased as Punch - the boots fitted perfectly! I could have kissed her (actually I could have done a lot more) and as I stood up and zipped up the ankle, I knew, these were the boots for me.
We made some small talk. She giggled a bit. I flicked my hair. She zip-zapped my card. I walked out grinning like a maniac.
I said in these shoes?
No way, jose
I said honey, let’s stay right here.
- Kirsty Maccoll
Corker. Stunner. Red-hot mumma. Call her what you will but this girl was summit else. Renee Headliner take a jump and make room for the cutest cobbler on Lambton Quay. She had it all, the looks, the body, hell even her voice was the sweetest I’d heard since Patsy Riggir.
It should be the simplest thing in the world, buying a pair of shoes from a pretty girl, but yesterday it was fraught with frustration and indecision. It went something like this.
I saw a pair of boots I liked in the window, went in, saw her, caught my breath, picked up the boots and approached her with them in my hand like a retriever bringing home a stick.
I… I’d like to try these on please.
Shorwa, she said, take a seat.
From there it should have been easy but ten minutes later I was surrounded by more black leather than the first day auditions for Goth Idol. I must have tried on at least six pairs of very similar boots at least twice. My feet seemed to fall between two sizes. My angel was getting frustrated. This wasn’t going well at all.
No, they’re the 42’s
The 44’s?
The 42’s look bigger.
Than the 44’s?
Yes the 44’s.
Try the 43’s.
In what style?
Those ones.
These ones?
Didn’t I already try these on?
No… Do you need a shoehorn?
Too tight I’m afraid, let me try those ones in the 44’s.
But the 44’s don’t fit you.
But they’re bigger than the 43’s
Smaller. Remember?
She’d wrapped me in her delicate cocoon of confusion and I stared, transfixed by those beautiful green eyes. Getting sleepy now…
You know what sweetcheeks? Let’s forget the boots and go get a drink, is what I should have said. But I didn’t. Instead I smiled sweetly, looked her in the eye and rammed my oddly sized foot into yet another piece of cowhide. And whaddaya know?
We looked to each other, to the boot, then back to each other again.
Could this be the one?
She was excited as Cinderella, and I was as pleased as Punch - the boots fitted perfectly! I could have kissed her (actually I could have done a lot more) and as I stood up and zipped up the ankle, I knew, these were the boots for me.
We made some small talk. She giggled a bit. I flicked my hair. She zip-zapped my card. I walked out grinning like a maniac.
