I credit my sorority little sister, Laura, for being the one to turn me on to the glorious world of Sex & the City. I never had HBO growing up, so while I had heard of the show, I hadn't actually seen an episode until I got to college. Laura, a super fan, had the entire collection, and I remember watching episodes with her and other Delta Z's -- I was hooked before long.
Having grown up in suburban Florida, I had big city dreams like a lot of girls. And Sex & the City just fed those dreams -- I saw before me a world of possibilities in NYC, with tons to explore, a set of great girlfriends and fabulous fashion to boot. Although I always related to Charlotte more than any of the other characters (and still envy her fashion sense and Park Avenue apartment), there was always something so fascinating about Carrie Bradshaw and those dang Manolo Blahnik shoes.
For Carrie, I think she put a lot of her hopes, dreams, and even lack of "true love" emotions into her shoe purchases. Every shoe she bought was a reflection of her personality, and to each shoe she tied a memory of a moment or an occasion. By no means am I as fanatical about shoes as Carrie, but I liked this idea of a physical representation of a moment or feeling. Not to mention, as I've previously expressed in earlier posts, I've had a somewhat embarrassing "challenge" with inadequacy in recent years after graduating from HBS, so having a pair of statement designer shoes that I could profess I was able to afford seemed to me as though it would announce "my arrival" as a real grown up. Hence, I added this item to my 30 before 30 list.
Originally, I had fully intended to completely splurge and spend upwards of $500 on a pair of totally hot Manolos, and hoped to make it a complete experience. I imagined waltzing into the NYC Manolo flagship store, browsing the expensive shoes as if dropping that much money on a single pair was a chunk of change. I imagined sitting in a plush leather chair with a salesperson sliding a glorious shoe onto my foot. I would casually profess that they were beautiful, hand over my credit card and drool as they wrapped the shoe into a dust bag and box, with me walking out with a Manolo Blahnik shopping bag that I'd probably keep for life.
However, as time passed and expenses piled up, I shamefully looked at my savings account and realized it was nearly empty. Suddenly this frivolous purchase started to bring up more feelings of guilt than excitement. If I had $500 at my disposal, did it make sense to buy ONE pair of shoes or an entire season's worth of winter clothes? One pair of shoes or another loan payment that could help me get out of student debt? One pair of shoes or flights to two of 4 weddings I've been invited to this year? The more I thought about it, the more I simply couldn't justify the purchase, 30 things list or not.
And then, a light bulb went off, and I remembered that I make the rules here. There's no 30 Things police that's going to come and scold me if I don't do exactly what I set out to do when I created this blog. With that in mind, I realized that I could still totally check this off my bucket list, feel the excited emotions that owning a pair of designer shoes would bring AND not break the bank. The answer? eBay.
For the last several months I've scoured the listings, looking for a gently used pair of shoes in my size, that appeared to be authentic and weren't awfully ugly (one thing I've learned is that the vast majority of Manolos actually look totally like old lady shoes, so the brand must have gone downhill since Carrie hung up her heels). About a month ago, I found a pair that called my name: bright pink, patent leather, 4 inch pumps. Gorgeous. And I snagged them for $130.
From what I can tell the shoes were originally $695, so at 1/6 of the price, I feel pretty good about the purchase. And they are beautiful. Sure they're a little bit worn in spots and sure there's a black mark through the name on the insole (showing that they were put on clearance before they got to me), but I don't care. They're classy, they're bold, and they're all mine. Every time I slip them on my feet the memories of those NYC dreams come flooding back, even if that lifestyle isn't what I'm searching for anymore. Now I just need a Mr. Big/Harry Goldenblatt/Steve Brady/Smith Jerrod to take me out on the town while I'm wearing them. And maybe I'll sip a Cosmo while I'm at it.
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