Wear 2: Fashion Capital and Thongs
For the fashionista that I am aiming to be, a natural destination is the Fashion Capital. Paris? Um, no. New York? Eee. Chadstone? Yep. For my international visitors, Chadstone is the fashion capital of, well, Chadstone. Or Melbourne at a push. A large, and getting larger, shiny marble and glass shopping centre in the East of Melbourne that runs its own bus tours and is incredibly difficult to get to with public transport on a Saturday. Being not a Saturday, and having the V—— in the Volvo as a transport option (he was getting Nespresso pods—'Just because its you Mr P——') we got there quite quickly. Would have been quicker if a large portion of my day was not now occupied with the most urgent question of 2013—'What am I going to wear?' This is what I decided on:
My shoes, from all outward appearance, are for show and not actually for walking. I have decided that I need to push through the pain barrier and learn to wear them, regardless. (Regardless of the fact that I look ridiculous trying to walk in them.) I made it to the car, from the car to the coffee shop and back, from the carpark to David Jones, Fossil and the Myers hosiery department. Then I put on my thongs. For my international visitors I am referring to footwear not intimate apparel. I am quite proud.
My shoes, from all outward appearance, are for show and not actually for walking. I have decided that I need to push through the pain barrier and learn to wear them, regardless. (Regardless of the fact that I look ridiculous trying to walk in them.) I made it to the car, from the car to the coffee shop and back, from the carpark to David Jones, Fossil and the Myers hosiery department. Then I put on my thongs. For my international visitors I am referring to footwear not intimate apparel. I am quite proud.
Who wore it better?
You are a Star!
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