Aside from
mingling with my besties and drinking lavish amounts of wine, the main reason I
go out to pubs and clubs is to judge. Yes, I said it- there is nothing I love
more than to look a bitch up and down and critique her atrocious appearance. It
is true; I get my kicks off seeing faux snakeskin boots and neon
barely-covering-the-bits dresses. It never fails to entertain me how women can
leave their houses in their ghastly “I think I am killing it” outfits. Every
time I cross my fingers and pray that they are going to a tragic-themed event
or are, please god, legitimately blind.
Living in a
small town where fashion is clearly not a priority, I am always guaranteed a
good laugh or worse, an eyesore that is bound to give a lady nightmares for
months. Seriously, Saw has nothing on the scary atrocities I have witnessed.
Give me a gory blood-soaked victim any day of the week. Well maybe not literally,
but you get my drift. (FYI- crimson red is a significantly preferable hue to
all you florescent-indulging divas).
Now before you
dismiss me as malicious little twat, it is paramount that I paint you a horrific and truthful picture. Just last night, whilst embarking on a
supposedly fabulous night, my retinas were gravely scarred as I witnessed a
lass dressed in a teensy-weensy white mini teamed with a, wait for it, cropped
navy singlet embellished with a glitter neckline. Although I could already pick
apart the atrocities of these scandalous garments, it gets gravely worse. For
one, this imbecile (look I don’t know her name- clearly she wasn’t someone I
wanted to befriend) unfortunately had the figure of Britney Spears in her
slightly less-than-stellar phase. And then some. So not only did I have to deal
with a severely shocking outfit, I also had to view it on a body that, excuse
me for sounding obnoxious, should be covered up. Not only this, (I am indeed
going to town on this poor girl) she was unable to walk in her cheap,
Kmart-inspired heels.
LADIES,
NOTHING IS MORE TRAGIC THAN NOT BEING ABLE TO WALK IN YOUR HEELS!!
I get it; at
some point in our lives we have all worn an outfit that we are ashamed of, (I
look back at the 90s and cringe) but nothing excuses a woman from not being
able to walk in her shoes. It is a fashion felony that is completely
unacceptable. From scuffing the floor to bent ‘I’m walking like a pray-mantis’
knees, girls all over the world are destroying the powerful, feminine image of
the infamous high heel. It is pretty simple really; heel-toe, heel-toe. Not
toe-heel, not I’m-walking-like-an-astronaut and definitely no wobbly knees.
As one of my
girlfriends put it, 'every high heel has been created from an artist who has
thought deeply about every element of that shoe- girls need to respect that
artist'. Amen sister. We wouldn’t carelessly carry The Mona Lisa* tucked
thoughtlessly under our arm, so why on earth would it be okay to abuse our heel
art? Despicable demeanor aside, it is simply ill mannered!
*For all you art
and historian maniacs; The Mona Lisa is equivalent to our Monolo Blahnik’s.
Moreover, the recent Spring Racing Season has
further supported my utter repugnance on this matter. I am dying merely writing
the words ‘heels in hands’ - and not the Rachel Zoe ‘’I DIE”- but rather I am
going to have a heart attack due to such distress that I may, quite literally,
die. So before the nausea sets in, I am summing up this contemptible carnival
in one sentence- the horses wore their shoes better than the majority of the
frocked up fuckwits.
In conclusion, look
in a mirror before you venture out in public AND if you cannot wear your heels
like a respectable woman, I will shoot you. Well, I would if I wasn’t too
delicate and pretty for jail. Hence, I will only offer you this piece of
advice…
Get a cute pair
of flats instead (clearly not from Kmart) and do us all a goddamn favour!
Rant over.
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