
So today, shortly before my eyes were assaulted by the subject of my last post, my senses suffered an assault of a different sort, at the Rodarte sample sale. Don’t get me wrong – my excitement leading up to this event caused me to bbm Cher, my invitation-beneficiary, about 10 times, making sure we were still on. When I arrived at the ACE Hotel today (one of my favorite spots) stress levels were high. We entered the private suits and were soothed by the lack of people for about 3 seconds until conditions degenerated rapidly. Let me paint you a picture. To the right of the doorway is one rack of phenomenal couture, dresses still so outrageously priced I am immediately embarrassed to be in attendance. On the hotel room bed, some neatly piled sweaters on the bed from SP08 that I really want, but which turn out to be $1500 each and up. Directly in front of me there is a table with 6 pairs of incredibly couture platforms with the runway stickers bearing the names of Kate and Irina still stuck to the insoles; these (cute but too big); FA09′s ubiquitous boots; this pair of Loub collaborations which was the hottest pair there; and these.
When I went over and grasped at the boots, I was stopped by a high voice behind me, saying, um, those are mine. The owner of this voice was a sight to behold. A pin-thin, fey male model with trendily bleached eyebrows, wearing leather leggings and the shoes pictured on my feets below. His size 1o shoes were stuffed painfully into these size 40 platforms and he was prancing around in them endlessly and telling me I should get a pair because they looked fabulous. He ended up with three pairs of platforms and a pair of boots. What?
Cher was in full-on sample sale mode and threw a few shank-eyes like a pro to procure a stunning leather belt (jealous) and two pairs of long leather gloves. She audibly lamented the lack of shoes in her preposterously small size (4!) and insisted that I buy the pair below. Yes, they looked fabulous, yes, they are genuine one-of-a-kind couture shoes, and yes, I am probably an idiot for not buying them, but they were too expensive, and just not me. Then the sweet rep from the brand tried to tell me that these shoes cost thousands of dollars just to make, and I was getting them for a bargain (upon closer inspection, the shoes appeared to be made out of chains, broken disco balls, and actual wires, like from the inside of a remote-controlled car). The were comfortable but a bit too trashy in the end. Admire them below and say goodbye forever:

Ultimately, when I decided not to buy, I felt a feeling of relief wash over me, so I know I made the right decision and didn’t let myself get carried away in a sample sale moment of retardation. In the words of my four favorites, I learned something about myself today. As much as I love shoes and think they are objects d’art to be coveted and adored, I prefer wearing my shoes to collecting them.