Since it's my beloved "TGI Foot Fetish Friday," I have a filthy little secret to confess. (I'm really a pasty white girl and not Asian at all? Why screw with your bewilderment? It's waaay too much fun.)
Here goes. I'm head over heels over ... heels. Like kryptonite. Yes, you heard correctly and it's totally true — shoes are my crack, smack, and whack all in one. (Is whack even slang for a drug? No matter, falling in love with a new Italian designer is like someone whacking me upside the head. Same thing.) Talk about a contact high. The second those puppies hit my puppies, a euphoria rushes over my body like none other. Move over Mary Jane, there's a new Mary Jane in town.
Wait, there's more. Hard as it is for me to divulge, I actually, hear me out, quiver at the mere sight of come-f'ck-me black patent ... and don't even get me started on kid suede. Two words: multiple glam-gasms. (For days). Oh my. So it makes perfect sense why I'm totally hooked on men hooked on my feet — especially when clad in strappy little numbers that reveal a sufficiently sexy amount of toe cleavage. Trust me love muffins, they're ALL into my feet. (And my rockstar pedicure.) Ancient Chinese secret or TMI from pasty white? Nope, just merely stating the facts. Whoever invented the term "shoe porn" was the Einstein of what really renders a woman powerless. Is there a Nobel Prize for that kind of brilliance? ('Cuz he/she earned it. In spades. Make that Kate Spades.)
This delicious level of dependence can't be rehabilitated through hypnosis, shock treatment (OMFG, they don't have my size!), or even the most rigorous 12-step program. Imagine standing before a group of poor souls struggling to banish their demons and admitting my insatiable desire for D'Orsay? Thanks but no thanks. Am I worried about spiraling into the depths of overdose-dom? Hell to the no. You can keep your clean living, bitches. As long as I'm sporting the latest Louboutins, I'll be the happiest (and most fashion-forward) junkie to ever buckle up a T-strap. Just watch me.
Since I was a just wee geishanista back in the Bronx, every pump, platform, boot, shootie, flat, flip-flop, slingback, stiletto, wedge or Wellie has held me spellbound. (Even though I despise rain, we must look smashing in it.) My aunties' closets were the absolute Holy Grail — all filled with fabulous shoe collections just waiting for my child-sized feet to explore. I'd be transfixed for hours, parading around in ankle straps, kitten heels, and a motherload of mules. It was endless. Dinner came and went and I never knew. Ferragamos were my food of choice.
In fact, I've been known to lay down a nice chunk o' change on a plethora of peep toes all in one sitting rather than go grocery shopping. (The sales peeps know me by name ... how sweet is that?) I mean, what better ambrosia than a bejeweled Badgley Mischka? What tortellini's more tantalizing than a super-sized serving of Stella McCartney thigh highs? Bring it on. So don't hate me 'cuz I'm skinny ... just blame my love for leather.
During pre-production for GEISHA-MANIA, I was seriously out of control — rows of Roberto Cavallis called my name. Stacks of Giuseppe Zanotti boxes started piling up. At one point there were 30 pairs of shoes — just for a damn three-minute video (not counting my own massive collection, of course). I'd hit rock bottom and my poor stylist was forced to stage an intervention. She failed. I kept buying. It was absolutely glorious.
Problem is, after the final cut was finished, you can't even see the shoes! My darling babies were pretty much pushed clear out of frame and banished into oblivion. I say conspiracy, but director Luciano Fontana claims artistic integrity. I'm sure I'm right, but you know how Sicilians get. I'll give him this round, cause there's always GEISHANISTA GO-GO, my upcoming music video. Wait till you see the kooky kaleidoscope of bling, fashion, fun, and wacky rap. And all-important shoes. So, Mr. Director, we shall see who wins this next battle ... you or the shoes? My money's on the Manolos ... they totally kick ass. xo
See what I mean?
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