Some days ago I attended a party for the launch of the American version of lastminute.com, at which pink cupcakes and pink lemonade were served (if you click on that link, you'll see why.) We were told that if we ourselves wore pink to the party, we would be entered in a drawing to win a vacation, and since I don't need to hear the words "win" or "vacation" twice, and since roughly 80% of my wardrobe is pink anyway, I obliged with a Pepto-Bismol-colored skirt I bought a few years ago in Singapore, and which has served me fairly well over the years for something that cost roughly the same as a ride on the San Francisco MUNI.
As you can imagine, the lure of a free vacation is enticing, even to employees in the travel industry, and there was so much pink in that room that after a while I started to get a toothache just looking around. I'm not sure you can imagine the various shades of pink, the absolute spectrum of the color, until you're in a room surrounded by seventy five different interpretations of it. It was like Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, if the amazing technicolor dreamcoat had been designed by a team of Malibu Barbies. With the help of Elton John.
Sadly, I did not win a vacation, despite my cotton candy skirt, and I think in some strange subconscious part of my brain, this instilled in me the desire to make my wardrobe EVEN PINKER, to really knock it out of the ballpark with my next purchase and make it THE PINKEST THING EVER PURCHASED IN THE HISTORY OF PINK THINGS PURCHASED, SO HELP ME GOD.
This, I think, is how I came to be the proud owner of a pair of pointy hot pink shoes, shoes that just called to me this evening to pick them up and slip them on and then take them over to the cash register and pay for them and wear them proudly like the pinnacle of pinkness that they are. I am seriously sort of in love with these shoes, and whatever you think of them yourself---and trust me, I know there will be some dissenters---you have to at least admit that these are probably the pinkest shoes you've ever seen your life.
Just wait until we meet in person. You'd better bring some sunglasses.
And by the way, I feel the need to tell you, as your (weird creepy Internet) friend (who lives inside the computer and buys strange shoes that you wouldn't be seen dead in) that absolutely everything in Zara at the moment is either $19.99, $29.99, or $39.99, and this goes for the men's stuff too. You'd better get down there quickly though, I'm buying the lime green pair tomorrow. No, really, lime green is surprisingly versatile.