I mean, cripes. Who really thinks these are attractive?
Seriously. It’s like stilettos with great horrible growths. Wicked Witch of the West shoes. Man kickers (ouch). Sorry fiends, but they are just butt ugly to me. So are the pumpy versions:
How these could be marginally flattering to any kind of foot is beyond my apparently limited comprehension.
I know, I know. Men have an inherent weakness for pointy heels, and maybe that affinity leaks over into pointy toes as well. Personally, I see machete-sharp, leather outcroppings jutting from underneath dress slacks (or worse, jeans, ugh) and I think, “Ew. Antithesis of sexy.” Don’t get me wrong: I like to wear sassy, smart shoes and boots. But I fail to see how these monstrosities could be considered even remotely feminine or flattering. I wear a size 5, and they’d make my feet look gargantuan. I can’t imagine them on a size 9 foot. Just write PT-73 on ’em.
But hey. If you want fancy leather cake servers sticking out from under your pantaloons, you just knock yourself out. I’ll be over here, relaxing in my moccasins.
Hoo-ah. Had a great night with Justin and Jake last night. Justin’s still sawing logs, and Jake is relaxing with Dora the Explorer at the moment, so Grammie is taking a few minutes to read and write. Later today is the marathon candy-making jamboree at the Fink house, where I will be joined by Helen, Hannah, Mavis, Jane and Simone. Fun will be had, and chocolate will be taste-tested. Yay for Chocodiles. We won’t have the heavy yellow cake, but Twinkies will do the trick, I’m thinking.