Some time in November, I cleaned out my closet and packed up just about all of my summer sandals, stuck them in the garage to wait out the winter. I made a big mistake, though -- I "stored" them in a white plastic drawstring bag, which around our house usually signifies "garbage". Even though I carefully wrote with Sharpie all over the bag -- LAURA - KEEP - SANDALS, somehow it seems that when I went hunting for the bag come April, it was nowhere to be found. I can only surmise that the bag was recognized for its typical use, and not the use I had put to it.
So, my entire lovely, painstakingly-collected wardrobe of size 12 sandals is GONE. I was fortunate enough to have kept three pairs in my closet when I packed up last fall (thank heaven for Indian Summer) but I sorely miss about six pairs of my total favorite, most comfortable, most beautiful summer footware.
I miss my shoes.
Guys would probably not understand this. Imelda might. I just wish I had thought to store them in the basement and not in the garage, because the basement storage closet is MY domain.
I admit it, I have big feet. YOU try finding any sort of cute shoes in Size 12. I never used to even have to THINK about that when we lived in San Francisco, because there was always McB's on Market Street, where all the glamorous transvestite performers shopped. They always had cute shoes, all the way up to Size 15, I think. I just ignored the 5" leopard stilletos, and "settled" for things that seemed much more tame -- but in reality, were actually so very cute. Now, in Denver -- I don't have that option.
Here, I have only Nordstrom Rack. That's not bad, though.
