After four months of hard-core searching for the perfect wedding shoe (and three more months of half-a$$ed searching before that), I found them.
Actually, a girl from my book club found them. She sent me a link to these shoes one day via Facebook, and since then, has, and will forever, hold a special place in my heart”¦ not to mention, a famous moniker: Samantha, Patron Saint of the Heavenly Shoes (bless her soul!). It just goes to show that when you’re in dire straits, DO reach out to EVERYONE you know”¦ you just never know who among your friends and acquaintances will find the shoe (or venue, or dress, or paper, or candles, or”¦) that you’re looking for.
And when I saw them, these spectacularly magnificent, exceedingly ravishing shoes, I promptly swooned.
And then I gasped three times in rapid succession.
The first gasp was for their GORGEOUSNESS – they were oh-so-perfect in every way: the right color, the right height, the right comfort-level, the right OOMF.
Then I gasped again because of the price… ouch!! I had never, ever dreamed of spending so much on a pair of shoes! And I probably would have sighed and closed the window at this point, if it weren’t for the fact I had just spent 7 fruitless months searching.
So I took a chance and gingerly clicked on the Choose Your Size drop-down list… and that’s when I gasped again:
My size was sold out!
I had the presence of mind to do some searches and poll some of the very trendy, fashionable and footwear-savvy people whose wedding blogs I admired very much, and learned that when it came to this kind of shoe, it was actually a good idea to order up half a size.
So I did.
And they came.
And I swooned/gasped/hyperventilated s’more.
Then I spent the next day wracked with guilt over spending so much money on a pair of shoes.
So then I sort of got over the guilt of how much these shoes cost and tried to just enjoy them. Then I went to pull off the stickers on the soles and saw this:
Oh. My. GAWD. The shoes were defective! But then I started thinking, maybe this is a blessing in disguise? After all, the mark in the sole, although it was an iconic sole and all, didn’t mean I couldn’t wear them. Turns out the very kind customer service guy at Net-A-Porter, from whence came the magical shoe, was extremely understanding and, since I had received the very last pair of size 37.5’s in the WORLD (yes, they even called the designer to double-check they didn’t have some left high-up on a dusty shelf) offered to do as much as he could to make up for it, which ended up being a 20% refund.
So I got my shoes, and I got a break on them too.
And I danced around our apartment in delight.
Did/do you do a daily dance in your wedding shoes too?