This - or these; I bought two of them - was, or were, my Christmas gift to myself this week.
They're Ecco Waves. Objectively, of course, I recognize that they are not much to look at; sort of utilitarian and work-shoe-ish. However, I LOVE them.
And here is why:
Monday, I was walking out of work, with a cloth briefcase and a lunchbag (OK, a plastic grocery bag with the remains of my lunch) on my arm. My cell phone was in my ear, and I was sort of distractedly headed to my car while saying something to The Man on the phone that I'm sure was very important. (Typical of our phone conversations: "Did you get cat litter?" "I'll pick up the OG if you'll pick up the YG" or "Fuck, no, you can't go out drinking with your layabout buddies tonight, because you didn't do the dishes, pig fucker!" )
Anyway. Just as I see two of my co-workers standing in the parking lot right in front of me, I FELL DOWN. On my right knee. Straight off of my old Dansko clogs:
...which, if you'll look, have the BAREST MINIMUM of a heel for me to fall off FROM. And yet, I managed to do it. I completely bought it, knee to pavement, cell phone skittering across the ground, co-workers yelping and rushing to help, EVERYTHING AS EMBARRASSINGLY AS POSSIBLE.
As it turns out, my co-workers were actually more focused on one of their cars having been vandalized and broken into. (Have you heard about this rash of car vandalisms that some assholes are perpetrating around Austin? They shoot out the back windows of cars with BB guns. Most aren't robbed, but my co-worker's was. Pig fuckers.) So, I was able to extricate myself from the situation fairly easily there, and to limp to my car in peace, blood clearly oozing from my knee underneath my pantleg.*
I am now, as always, astounded by my own clumsiness. I don't know why it always comes as such a shock to me, when I fall, OFF ONE-INCH CLOGS, onto the ground. And yet, it does.
So, in my embarrassed, alone, silence, I drove. Straight to Dillard's. And I bought myself the Eccos, because they had the combined effect of having a brand name that does not immediately bring to mind Grandma (e.g. Naturalizer) with the fact that they are as soft as Cupid's ass in a bushel of cotton. And, most importantly, I do not believe that it is possible that I could FALL OFF OF THEM.
However, I have been wrong before.
*The Man was, I think, actually a bit nonplussed by this particular conversation; which I believe sounded something like "I know we're out of milk, but they don't carry Horizon at Walgr-AAAAH! (rattle rattle slide)... (pause)...Uh, I'M OK!"
I also bought these, for no good reason other than my hurt pride needed some more balm: