coping methods, part 2

I haven't been feeling particularly well the last while and advice from others has been, almost exclusively, to do things I like to combat the Mean Reds. Lately I've been most interested in matching, which is a sad interest, but it's the truth. To assist with this, I picked up a couple pairs of shoes today. It's probably bad to spend money on stuff that I don't really need, but it's either buy shoes or buy drugs and I'm still not sold on the whole drug thing. Besides, they're from Winners and were half what they would have retailed at. And I'm kind of cheap lately or in general, so you can assume they really were cheap.

The purple ones are Liz Claiborne and are quite possibly one of the highest pairs of shoes I've ever owned, including my fancy shoes that I only wear for special occasions. And they're meant for work! But I like them a great deal and am wearing them around the house now, to get used to them and to see if they need to be broken in before wearing them all day around the office. The green ones are some random brand I've never heard of, but they're ultra comfy and I love the colour. I can't really tell how librarian they are, but I suspect that anything is librarianish if a librarian is wearing it.

What's funny is that when I arrived back at work I mentioned to one of the librarians that I had just gotten a couple of pairs of sensible shoes. She wanted to see them (earlier in the week she showed off her newly purchased red suede boots that made me jealous for her tiny calves) and laughed at my description because she didn't see how 3 inch purple shoes and green flats were sensible. Maybe I should have said school marmish; that description seems more apt.

Or maybe my view of shoes is rather skewed. I look at the stuff girls hobble around in at the library and I can't believe they thought those shoes were the best choice for that outfit. Yesterday, just before the library was shut down due to toxic fumes from the CBC building construction (aiming industrial epoxy fumes toward the air intake of a public building seems retarded, but maybe that's just me), I had a discussion with an old co-worker about why high heels look sort of stupid with shorty shorts and tiny skirts. Neither of us are really big on the hooker chic look.

I'm not going to talk about the shiny red bag that also made its way home with me today.