My new Saint Laurent "Spikes" from Barneys New York. Nothing beats the excitement I feel when I set foot on the softly carpeted floor of a shoe department in one of my favorite stores. I imagine it's a bit like how Buster Posey will feel tonight in Arizona, as he ambles across the fresh grass to his spot behind the plate.
My form of elation breaks down something like this:
First, my gut fills with butterflies. Yes, just like those first date/first love/first anything insects.
Second, my heart beats ten-times faster, and I can feel it racing from beneath my wife beater.
Third, my body temperature rises 30 degrees which is why I always shop sans sleeves to avoid excess sweat.
Forth, my IQ drops 80 points and I lose all sense of perspective, reality, and time. I have the metallic Comme Des Garcons clown shoes to prove it.
Fifth, my blood alcohol level rises past that dreaded .08% line even though I am sober. I feel drunk with shopping power!
Sixth, my strength and reaction times triple -- I can lunge across the Chanel display at warp speed, cradle dozens of shoes in my arms, and leap tall mannequins in a single bound to grab the toe of that Balenciaga boot dangling from that foot in the sky.
As I pushed open those heavy glass doors on Stockton Street to enter Barneys and ascended those stairs to the shoes, I started to hyperventilate and experience the six stages of shoe-mania listed above, and came back down to earth with my new pair of Saint Laurent spiked ankle-strap kitten-heel pumps. I love them.
I know that when I'm high on shopping I've made many bad purchases I've regretted - we all do stupid things and have taken home stupid men while high on anything, but when it's right, you just know it.
I'm sure Buster regrets those bad swings at bad pitches, but when it's right, and he connects, well...
So tonight on Opening Day of the Major League Baseball Season, I'm going to strap on my spikes and celebrate my fashion home run.