And I made the mistake of trying on a pair of boots before I actually looked at the price.
I saw them from across the store. It's possible that I actually said, "Helloooo, lover" as I reached to touch them for the first time.
"Doyouhavethisinaneight?" I asked, absentmindedly, as I stroked the soft brown leather.
Seth, the architect of my doom, was very helpful. He brought me the brown boots in a size seven and a size eight. He brought the same boots in black. In fact, he came out of the stock room with five or six pairs of the things, ready for me to try on.
So I did, and it was my undoing.
The boots of my dreams, they were. Soft, buttery leather. The exact right height, a perfect fit below my knees. A low heel, ideal for walking in.
I had to have them. Had to. I justified it in all kinds of ways. I've been looking for precisely these boots for five years. I've always wanted sort-of-riding-boots. They're such great quality I will wear them forever. The colour is exactly right. They fit perfectly - something that's been a challenge since my pregnancy when my feet changed shape.
And they were discounted; I would save four hundred dollars.
Yeah. I know. I have lost my ever-loving mind. Learn from my folly: do not walk into a Ferragamo store. Just don't. Trust me on this.
So I bought them, yes I did.
And then I stumbled out of the store as if out of a dream, and back, blinking, into reality. The conversation with HWSNBN a couple of hours later was interesting. As I explained why it made sense to spend more that I used to pay in rent on a pair of boots, he stopped me. "Lexi," he said, "you are the kind of person they keep in the basement of the White House to come up with reasons for completely horrendous government policy. You can justify anything."
He's not wrong. Still, they are fabulous.
Plus, they're a perfect match for my new cape.
|Yes, I bought a cape. Because why not, right?|
Full disclosure: GM Canada is providing Karen, Nicole, Tracey and I with a Chevrolet Traverse, insurance, gas, and hotels to make the road trip to San Diego and back. I've paid for my BlogHer ticket and hotel during the conference myself. And my own boots. I paid for those. Although it's possible I may have to wear them every minute until the day I die to amortize their cost over time.