The Shoe Dilemma

Junior Intern editor Isabel was excited to see the newly refurbished David Jones shoe department and as the ornate filigree lift doors opened all of her expectations were fulfilled as she stepped onto the dove grey Assyrian cut marble. Around her the shadows of the glass chandeliers created intricate patterns on the softest blush coloured wallpaper. The eighth floor resembled a beautiful Parisian Boudoir. Soft white chiffon curtains hung over brass ornate windows, golden wall scondants replaced the harsh down lights often seen in retail stores and the counter tops were covered in a silver damask similar to the cushions found in the main tapestry room at Versailles. There were many well-dressed ladies admiring the hundreds of shoes on display. Most of the world’s finest designers’ creations were purposefully positioned next to high street fashion allowing even the budget conscious shopper like Isabel to explore the best of the best. As she carefully manoeuvred around Christian Louboutin and slid past Jimmy Choo, it was Balenciaga that she made a hasty beeline for.

There, on prime display was the coveted shoe. She seized the Graffiti Pointy Toe Pump with such delicacy, careful not to harm the equilibrium space between this work of art and her mortal fingertips. She dreamt of the vivid theatrical costumes to accompany her look and memorised the responses she would deliver when she was complimented on her fabulous shoes. As she held her prize in her hands, her editor Alexia Bonafecci suddenly appeared.
‘Isabella darling, what a sweetie you are, just the shoe I was looking for, be a bellissima regazzi and ask that sales woman over there for a size nine.’
‘No way,’ she thought, ‘was anyone getting their hands on this little baby but her.’ Isabel saw her right arm, clutching the black patent heel rise and sharply slam down on top of Alexia Bonafecci’s perfectly round head. Her chestnut bangs turned sickly red from the blood slowly trickling down her face. The same passive aggressive spark in her eyes permanently fixated in death as it was in life.
‘Darling did you hear me, or are you five minutes behind the conversation yet again?’ She interrupted.
‘Hmm, not sure if it’s available in a size nine I’m afraid Alexia, what about those Chanel pumps in raspberry?’

Photo: @Thephotonews