A Paris Promenade and Perfect Shoes

I like Cinderella, I really do. She has a good work ethic. And she likes shoes. The fairy tale is all about the shoe at the end. – Amy Adams

David was at school for six hours today, which left me alone with the credit cards.

The beginning was innocent, the sky was blue and I wanted to log 10,000 steps so I start off at a brisk pace to nowhere. Is it my fault the street to Nowhere happens to intersect with the BHV?

So I end up at the BHV where my (stated) agenda is still to get 10,000 steps. I have 4,400 so far and I’m accumulating more by wondering the store when an elderly lady in a wheelchair, who has been hollering at everyone, turns to me just enough that I can see one of her eyes and half of her mustache, and demands, “Vous. Poussez!” (You. Push!) And so I did.

Hours later (sans old lady) and still at the BHV, I have accumulated 6,600 steps and one darling skirt. I am, admittedly, not an efficient shopper. And now the skirt needs some shoes (Hello, Captain Obvious). This is the precise moment the agenda changed. Must. Buy. Shoes.

I metro to the Galleries Lafayette (Yep, they’s got a train that’ll take y’all from basement to basement). There are literally a thousand or more shoes here and I aim to try them all. Round and round I go. Round and round. “Bonjour, Madame”. “Bonjour, encore, Madame”. “Madame, may I offer you a drink”. “Madame, do you have a place to stay tonight”.

I try on some shoes that are sitting on the 50% off table and my salesman tells me: They are perfect. They are too tight but this will change. They are suede so you mustn’t wear them when it is wet (WTF, I’m in Paris, it’s never not wet). Yes, they are a size smaller than you usually wear, this is no problem. Oh, and they are only 30% off Madame.

They are perfect. I’ll take them.

Obviously, I’ve got my 10,000 steps++ so I take the metro home. But I’m exiting the subway station when my shoe bag gets caught on the inside of the double doors whilst I am on the outside of the double doors. With just my eyes I convey to two young men laughing at me to get their sad sorry asses over to help me retrieve these Perfect Shoes. An engineering team is assembled and a theorem is discussed but, alas, I am saved by another departing passenger.When I do exit the station I am faced with a downpour. Damn this Paris weather. I’m going to have to buy an umbrella tomorrow.

I think I saw one at the BHV.