It’s raining, my eyes are about to fall out of my head, I’m wearing the same outfit on Monday as I did on Friday, I’m ratty ‘cos I was up at 5. 30am to catch the Capital Connection (yes, from Palmerston North but that is a whole other story) but it ran 30 minutes late which meant I missed my special- treat- for- me- for- being- up- so- jolly- early breakfast at Nikau Café before I started work.
Without breakfast I’m about as rational as cicada in late March (i.e. not rational).
The day has dragged and not in a bitchin way.
I trudge home, up the 283 steps to Kelburn. I imagine I am a pack horse in the snow and my thoughts turn maudlin.
‘Does anyone actually care about anything? Is there really a shortage of Marmite or is this the best marketing ploy ever? Should I make up a gag about promite and post it on twitter?’
The wind whips my face, heavy thunderclouds darken my brow and then as I lift my eyes up off the mossy, slippery ground everything changes.
There, on the doorstep is a parcel. A parcel with my name on it and the initials KW written in black.
Ohhhhhhhh! I gleefully squeal as I pick it up (I am about to turn into every cliché ever used about women who hold a special place in their wardrobes for shoes.)
A squeally ‘Ohhhhhhh’ at seeing a box of shoes on my doorstep after a crappy day is in fact, VERY restrained given that I have Dated For Shoes, worked in Milk factories to finance shoes, made up dance routines in my lounge about shoes, and thought about becoming a rapper so I could call myself
‘Commando M-Mistress of the Kung Fu – Shoe.’
I bustle my way inside, drop my bags and take a photo because I am trying to remember to use the built in features of my new iphone and I am thinking of writing this.
Nice eh? This is to show you how lovely the packaging is.
I’m so excited I need a quick wee.
It’s time for the moment of truth. The moment that the little photo on the Kathryn Wilson website becomes a real life leather reality, the moment I lift open the lid and clap my eyes on the Cettina Heel.
A vision of camel and zebra print greets me. It’s all business up front and a party at the back. It’s classy and jazzy all in one. It’s a savannah and a wild animal all at the same time!
My hand reaches out, like one of the ugly sisters when she sees Prince Charming holding the glass slipper.
Just like her I am desperate to see if the shoe fits.
I place the shoe on the ground, brace myself against the world with one hand (it’s been a long day remember) and slip my size 37 foot into the smooth, handmade loveliness.
Wooo hoo! They fit!
Oh la la! The extra four inches makes my legs look banging!
Hurray! No toe cleavage!
I stalk up and down the hallway, pout and pose in front of the skinny mirror (it’s on loan from my sister and I have put it strategically at the end of the hall for a confidence boost when entering and exiting the front door) and start planning the adventures me and Cettina are gonna have.
Yeast extract be damned – I get a kick outta shoes.
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