Does Yves Saint Laurent work in fleece?

Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, I went for a teeny tiny run last night. Granted, I was jacked up on gabapentin, but I did it. Probably only half a mile at most but it felt good to just have a little run. Perhaps the orthotics are working and I won’t need the extra cryo-therapy after all.

Anyway, back to the main attraction, my shoes! Next up are a fabulous pair of Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche monster wedges. Check out these babies, so elegant and so bloody high I’ve only worn them once. I fell in love with them when I saw them, six straps, four buckles and a great chunk of wood wrapped in the softest smoothest black leather; these shoes invite you to totter and quite frankly if you’re going to wear them, it’s a given that you will. Honestly, these shoes are for ladies who are able to just stand around next to a pool in Miami and sip a glass of champagne all night. They’re not for northern lasses who drink real ale, get caught out in the rain and occasionally decide to try out karate moves in the middle of Barkers Pool, whilst dodging students urinating on the cenotaph. Google those last five words and you’ll get my drift.

I think what I’m trying to say is this; I will never, ever get another opportunity to wear these shoes and keeping them is just fooling myself that I’m one of those glamorous women that roll out of nightclubs at 4am still looking fabulous. Regardless of the neuroma these shoes are just not for me. I think I bought them because I had visions of myself being one of those tall, lithe ladies that sparkle all night long. In reality I’m the one stood in the corner picking dog hairs off my fleece. Goodbye Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche beauties, I have accepted who I am and I have accepted my hairy fleece, for the hairy fleece means only one thing. A big hairy dog that loves me regardless of my shoes.