THANK HEAVEN FOR LITTLE GIRLIE SHOES
MIAMI – The hotel shuttle, an hour overdue, tries to sneak past the stop. I don't even reflect: I bolt.
I dodge across four lanes of traffic and flag that sucker.
"You're fast off the blocks in those heels," remarks a fellow traveler.
"Just doing my job," I joke. "Travel writers don't have time for that Clark Kent phone booth nonsense. We just save the day in style..."
In fact, the posh footwear is due to the three-inch wound on my sole. After my final PADI advanced open-water exam, I swam to the lagoon shallows, definned and stood. A rock knifed straight into the cut from the Medellin salsa mishap. Not a good moment, this: lots of flailing and language that froze all the blokes on the dock.
Anyway, the tilt of the girlie shoes protects my twice-gouged heel – enough to run even*, rocket-boostered by adrenaline. The ensemble is topped by a little black dress and a Kavu fleece. Pure class.
Soon this will be the uniform of scuba divers the world over, I'm sure.
*Two words, young woman: ankle straps.
Healarious, bella.....
ReplyDeleteS. from the Cotswolds
I aim to please, darling. Someone has to distract you from "food witch Gillian McKeith"... Xoxoxo, Ax.
ReplyDeletePS: Wow, I managed a whole sartorial post sans reference to blinged grill .
Growing up really is no fun.
Can we revisit the diamond-studded incisor? Please? Oh please?
ReplyDeleteI've seen the author in turquoise boots. How could bling grill top that?
ReplyDeleteNot possible. M.
The boots are quite fabulous. As usual, the credit goes to Anna in London. She periodically does a style intervention and sorts me out...
ReplyDeleteERH, are you planning a fang-sparkler? Is that why the dentist's estimate was so high?
ReplyDelete