Monday, 14 December 2009

Of High Heels and Dead Animal.

As they say, “The Higher the Heels, the closer to God”. Little did I know that being close to Divinity takes some kind of Agony.

Hot Marbella threw it’s first ever Xmas Party a couple of weeks ago. Attire: Black, Pink or Festive. I opted for festive as black is just so safe and tiresome while Pink is out of the question unless I come as Pink Panther.

So, festive it was for me. Dead animal and 5 inches stilettos. My idea of festive. Well, my closet's emergency idea of festive, really.

Yes, dead animal.

I didn’t kill it. It was a gift and it was already dead. I thought it was a raccoon but I figured it was a mink. A mink scarf complete with claws and tail. I would have loved to bring it to life again but obviously I couldn't. It has been mummified so before you send me hate mails and cruelty to animals stuff, think again. It was a gift and it was dead already. Send your hate mails to India. The woman who gave me this has disappeared in that part of the world three years ago.

I can bring some dead things into life but not this one. Trust me.

The shoes. Ahhh…the shoes. I swallowed all my pride and dignity and stormed to the nearest mall to get those brilliant stilettos. Plus the taxi fare to and from my house, it was the most expensive pair of shoes I bought in my life.

I tried the shoes on amidst the Christmas shoppers. The store was filled with matronic ladies and young lovely girls with their boyfriends.

The ladies were squirming and giggling as I tried different pairs.

The boyfriends were squirming and having hard-ons while I walk on them fine shoes. I swear one the boys winked at me.

But there was no time to flirt and covet someone else’s boyfriend. I had to go to the party. I went to the counter.

“To gift wrap please", I asked the tired lady at the salesgirl.

“Surely”, she said and then winked at me. It was a winking day, I presumed.

12midnight. Fiddling with the dead animal on my neck and holding a cramp from evil stilettos, I was stuck in my apartment. No signs of transport to go to the party.

Again, taxi.

At last, I arrived at the party. It was alright. The music kept me awake. Met new friends. People-watched.

The next day, the shoes were a hit. Facebook. Twitter.

Even the boss found out. Shit.

Doesn’t matter. I had fun. The shoes were addictive.

I think I got hooked.



Related Posts with Thumbnails