Few things in life are more disappointing than expecting one perfect thing and getting the exact wrong thing. Consider the gorgeous shoes above. That’s what I was expecting, perfectly sized up to accommodate for a narrow Christian Louboutin toe box. What I got was a pair of Dolce & Gabanna leopard print shoes with some freaky little bow on top. I guess they were okay shoes, if leopard print shoes suited me at all, but they don’t. I’m the furthest thing from a leopard print shoe girl you can find. So when I opened my box and saw those instead of my classy little black and red CLs, my brain almost melted down… did not compute. How did my cute little shoes turn into hooker shoes? A phone call later, I found out the size I thought would work best in the CLs was then gone, and I had to go down a half a size, and now I’m crossing my fingers that that size will fit. If not… bleah. Back they’ll go while I wait and hope the cute little Rolando style eventually comes back in stock or I find a pair while I’m in Italy.
Speaking of disappointments, I have to just bitch a little about the Givenchy Incense that got a great review in Perfumes: The Guide. I was expecting something great, and it started off great, with a floral fougerey incense mojo that felt perfect for men or women, and then it veered off into a perfectly nice men’s scent, but not terribly entertaining. Where in the world was the “melancholy and mystery” the review promised?
My brother, the requestor of the Sam Elliott sampler pack was also supposed to report in on a few of the scents… and another disappointment -I got zip from him. I know he’s liked everything so far that he’s sniffed, with his favorites being the Tom of Finland, Montale Black Oud, and Ormonde Jayne Ormonde Man. Just goes to show you, good taste does run in the family.
Anyway, I have decided that I need to start wearing high heels again after a couple of decades of flats and flip-flops. So now I wear my Jimmy Choos around the house for 15-30 minutes at a time and my Gucci FM mules for maybe 5 minutes at a time (these things kill in more ways than one). Is this the best way to get back into high heels, or do our feet age to the point that it just doesn’t work anymore? My feet, so far, are turning into another disappointment, which I’m hoping I can change for the better.
That teeny girl with my sister Shirley in the picture to the right, I love taking pictures of her because she could care less if you’re snapping pictures because she is so in the moment every second of her waking life. She was born months premature and was this tiny, tiny little thing you could hold in one hand five years ago. Two-thre years ago, she went through a bad time with her mom, and when she came back home, she was withdrawn and silent. She has a great father and family who surrounded her with love, and the broken places healed, and the curtain of silence lifted. Listening to her peels of laughter and her jumping into my arms with an ear-shattering “I’ve MISSED you!!!” reminds you that life, no matter the disappointment, always finds joy.