Walking on Air

I love -- no, adore -- shoes. As soon as I step into Nordstrom (or Saks or Macy's...), the shoe department begins its sirens' call. Like Odysseus, I cannot help myself unless forcibly restrained by my shopping partners. What could be hours later (or is it just minutes?), I emerge dazed and disoriented. Did I really just buy a pair of Tory Burch flats and Michael Kors wedges? Gilt Group has proved similarly dangerous with its vicious markdowns on hard to find brands (in Houston, at least) like Gryson and Botkier. Here's a picture of my closet and the incriminating evidence of my shoe obsession:

My boots and athletic shoes are lined up along another wall. I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit that I had these shelves built specifically for my shoes -- but who needs clothes when you've got great pumps? The great irony is that while I may love shoes, my feet do not. My list of foot problems is ever growing, but I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that while I may only be 27, my feet are 40...maybe 45. In but a few short years, I'll be forced into "sensible" shoes that I mock my mother for now. But that time has not yet arrived. So today I will suck the marrow out of life and parade around in all sorts of completely impractical -- and utterly gorgeous -- shoes, feet be damned.

Fortunately for my feet, at least some of my shoes aren't trying to kill them. Behold the Genevieve OT Air Pump by Cole Haan:

I already have a similar shoe in black patent (the Carma OT Air Pump), but this iteration just arrived at my front door yesterday (Nordstrom had already sold out in a size 10 so I had to order it!). I love everything about this shoe: the muted gold color, the woven texture, the wooden heel. In short, it's the perfect shoe for spring -- and for my foot. I'll admit these babies are pricey, but I swear that these brainchildren of Cole Haan and Nike may end up saving me hundreds (if not thousands of dollars) on the back end in medical costs. If you think about it that way, they're a steal. Plus, they don't make me want to take off my shoes on 6th Street at the end of a long night out and walk barefoot back to my car.*

Now if only I can get my husband to see it that way.

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* - Not that I ever actually did that back in law school or anything.