Where last we left off, it was the Friday night before the wedding. The cupcake favors were baked, my parents were spending the night with my sister, and I was at home packing for the weekend. I got the bright idea that I should wear my wedding shoes around the apartment while packing and cleaning, just to make sure they were broken in (genius, I know). I slipped on my pretty silver shoes and proceeded to fold clothes, organize wedding decorations, and put away books and magazines that had accumulated around the living room. Only, something wasn't right. My pretty (comfortable!) silver shoes...suddenly weren't so comfortable. After 10 minutes I felt a blister beginning to form on my pinky toe where it was being rubbed by the shoes. After 15 minutes there was another one popping up on my big toe.
I had read over and over online and in bridal magazines that you should break your shoes in before your wedding day, and I had written this off as a no-big-deal checklist item, something listed to pad otherwise sparse lists in that crucial final month before the wedding. I KNOW shoes, ok, and I had never worried about breaking them in before. But now, taking off the clearly torturous shoes, I began to see the error of my ways. How was I going to wear these shoes for 6+ hours on my wedding day if I couldn't even wear them around the apartment for half an hour?
As panic began to set in, I did what any sane person would do: I put the shoes back in their box and completely ignored the problem. I gave it no more thought as I finished packing, chatted with Jeff when he got home, and finally went to bed.
Then, the next morning, the realization hit me: I had no viable wedding shoes! The day before my wedding, and I was without shoes. How the hell did this happen?!
I had planned a nice, relaxing morning before meeting up with my bridesmaids for lunch and mani/pedis, but that plan flew out the window as soon as I grasped the enormity of the situation. I threw on some clothes, skipped the makeup and hairdo, and ran out the door with no clear plan of where I was headed. I began driving toward Long Beach, where the bridesmaid lunch was going to be, frantically searching for nearby stores on my phone's navigation system (I know, googling while driving=bad move, but it was crunch time, people!). I found a Ross a few blocks from the restaurant and made a sharp last-minute left turn onto the street, leaving a wake of honking horns behind me. I parked quickly, threw a couple of quarters into the meter, and ran into Ross. I scanned the shelves and found nothing but platform flip-flops and bad white shoes (and we all know by now how I feel about white shoes).
Disparing at my lack of wedding shoes, I hung my head and left the store. As I stepped out into the blinding sunlight I paused to put on my sunglasses and, looking up to identify a smudge on the lens, noticed out of the corner of my eye a Nordstrom Rack on the next corner. My heartbeat quickened. I had never been to a Nordstrom Rack before, and I wasn't sure I would even be able to afford any of the shoes there. But I had to look. I mean, clearly the stars were aligning for me to check it out, right?
Nervous beyond belief, I entered the store and ignored the racks of cute shirts and sweaters as I made a beeline for the shoes. And I have to admit, there were some amazing shoes--just not amazing shoes in my size in colors that would work for the wedding. I lingered for more than half an hour, examining every size 10 shoe in the store, then every size 9 1/2. And nothing. Don't get me wrong, there were shoes I *loved*, but none were "wedding shoes". I finally gave in and tried on a pair of silver Kate Spades that were a steal at $120, but were still way out of my price range. With a sigh, I put them back on the shelf and turned to walk out, passing the size 11 rack as I went. And as I passed it, something caught my eye: well hello there perfect champagne-colored shoe. What a pretty peep-toe you have, and--oh!--is that an ever-so-slight platform I see? Too bad you're too big...
I leaned in to look closer and, lo and behold, the tag said size 10! I snatched the shoe off the rack and thrust my foot into it. And...it was perfect! It fit, it was a great color, the right height, and the style matched my dress! I could already tell they were more comfortable than the silver ones, and really, at this point I was willing to risk it in new shoes rather than endure inevitable foot torture in my current ones. I nervously turned the pretty new shoe over to check out the price tag on the bottom. I nearly fainted when I saw the price: $20! Half the price of my original shoes. I had reached shoe nirvana. I literally skipped to the checkout, a giant smile plastered on my face. This was it, the sign I needed: I was ready to get married.
And, because I've kept you in suspense this long, I won't wait until the wedding recaps to show off my pretty new shoes. Here they are, in all their fated glory:
Disparing at my lack of wedding shoes, I hung my head and left the store. As I stepped out into the blinding sunlight I paused to put on my sunglasses and, looking up to identify a smudge on the lens, noticed out of the corner of my eye a Nordstrom Rack on the next corner. My heartbeat quickened. I had never been to a Nordstrom Rack before, and I wasn't sure I would even be able to afford any of the shoes there. But I had to look. I mean, clearly the stars were aligning for me to check it out, right?
Nervous beyond belief, I entered the store and ignored the racks of cute shirts and sweaters as I made a beeline for the shoes. And I have to admit, there were some amazing shoes--just not amazing shoes in my size in colors that would work for the wedding. I lingered for more than half an hour, examining every size 10 shoe in the store, then every size 9 1/2. And nothing. Don't get me wrong, there were shoes I *loved*, but none were "wedding shoes". I finally gave in and tried on a pair of silver Kate Spades that were a steal at $120, but were still way out of my price range. With a sigh, I put them back on the shelf and turned to walk out, passing the size 11 rack as I went. And as I passed it, something caught my eye: well hello there perfect champagne-colored shoe. What a pretty peep-toe you have, and--oh!--is that an ever-so-slight platform I see? Too bad you're too big...
I leaned in to look closer and, lo and behold, the tag said size 10! I snatched the shoe off the rack and thrust my foot into it. And...it was perfect! It fit, it was a great color, the right height, and the style matched my dress! I could already tell they were more comfortable than the silver ones, and really, at this point I was willing to risk it in new shoes rather than endure inevitable foot torture in my current ones. I nervously turned the pretty new shoe over to check out the price tag on the bottom. I nearly fainted when I saw the price: $20! Half the price of my original shoes. I had reached shoe nirvana. I literally skipped to the checkout, a giant smile plastered on my face. This was it, the sign I needed: I was ready to get married.
And, because I've kept you in suspense this long, I won't wait until the wedding recaps to show off my pretty new shoes. Here they are, in all their fated glory:
Shoes in hand I gleefully headed off to the bridesmaid's lunch. Everything was going to be ok!
No comments:
Post a Comment