Gladiatrix Space-Hooker?

I report.

You decide.

Well, actually, I like them whether you do or not. Also, I'm enjoying my orange-lacquered toenails. They look so much nicer these days since I stopped chewing them...

Taking one for the team...

...or in this case, a pair.

Meet my new Gladiatrix Space Hooker shoes in pinky metallic leather. Me likey!

Very cute.

Now what shall I wear them with?

Have I got shoes for you...

Dear Abby,

I'm concerned about a friend of mine. She's obsessed with shoes. In a fit of pique she vowed last September not to buy any shoes until 2009. She stuck with that vow, and even though her first purchase of 2009 was a sensible pair of shoes, I wasn't fooled for a minute. In recent years, she's spent the equivalent of some lesser-developed nations' military budget on play-pretties for her feet. I'm worried her mortal soles are in peril.

She once stuck to finely crafted, well-wrought shoes with very classic lines and impressive pedigrees, but lately her tastes have run to gladiatrix space hooker. *shudder* Recently she actually tried on a pair of orange patent leather platform clodhoppers with lucite heels that would have scandalized RuPaul. Srsly. She cooed and fondled these horrors publicly, and I 'bout dropped my transmission when she put them back on the shelf, dismissing them as "impractical." What is to be done with such a one?

Just yesterday she acquired this obnoxious pair of platform Mary Janes from Dolce Vita. How do I reel her in, Abby? How do I persuade her that her footie thing is a cry for help, that she should eschew the nosebleed platforms, come back to earth and heel herself?

Sincerely,

La Phlegm

The Shoe-Tist.

I'm srsly drooling over this red suede confection from Cole-Haan. Sadly (or just as well, actually), these $350 puppies sold out practically overnight.

I'm digging on the whip-stitch satin ribbon around the edges of these Betsey Johnson delights.

These red ones are campy as can be, which means I may have to have them. I'm drooling.

My inner drag-queen is crying out for the pink streetwalker sandals. Prolly not getting those, either.

Doesn't it just suck to behave and live within a budget? *le sigh*

Alas.

I'll just console myself by wearing my Gladiatrix Space Hooker shoes today.

On the subject of shoeses....

Yes, old picture-- and you should see the fabulous sparkly blue-green my toenails are now, but I digress-- but I needed to illustrate the Gladiatrix Space Hooker shoes featured in today's post.

Of late, several older men at work seem to be noticing my shoes more than I would have expected. Leaving work Friday night, one of them remarked to me "what would you do if you had to run for your life in those shoes?" I quipped "I'd have to dig my heels in, stand my ground and just shoot back."

Sitting on my yoga ball Monday in cute top, skirt and these strappy affairs, another fellow kept coming by and remarking on my shoes. He said he sensed the yoga ball was frightened, fearing for its life in proximity to the needlesome little spikes. I said oh no, that ball knew what it was getting into when it came home with me and that it likes my shoes. Is in fact, quivering with delight.

Lucky ball.

Have I got shoes for you!

How long since I posted about shoes here?

Well, that's too long.

Feast your feets on these little darlings from Irregular Choice.

This patriotic number makes me want to straddle a cannon. How about you? I'm not thinking of Cher in that scary video so much as 1940s calendar girl type stuff. *squee* Or maybe just hum some Andrews Sisters...

This feline bootlet is oddly compelling. Can't decide if I'm crazy about them or not, but I'm leaning toward the crazy. Nope. Scratch that-- I totally love these.

Then there's this colorful yet subdued pair that make me think of the Mad Hatter for some reason. *slobber*

BTW, I have a new pair of 5" pewter metallic wedges which fit snugly into the Gladiatrix Space Hooker category. You'd be so proud of me. They match my purse...

Which matches my carry pistol.

I need to wear something downright slatternly on my feet today to offset the mandatory t-shirt scourge at work.