As announced to everyone within earshot of me as I made my way to the Cheverly Prom a few weeks ago, I bought Prada shoes.
(No, not to wear to the Cheverly Prom.)
This should not come as much of a surprise to those who know me, or maybe it will come as a shock. It might be the most indulgent purchase I have ever made, which is why I feel a slight chagrin in this admission. But I fell in love with these shoes when shopping for a dress to wear to Kaitlan’s wedding, and as those on the receiving end of my affection know, my love is not fleeting.
I have a mathematical formula in my head that justifies such a purchase. It goes something like this:
Credit for returned Kate Spade shoes + consignment check from Secondi + price differential between black DVF dress and dress I actually wore = Prada shoes
Shoes are the constant.
I knew I wanted these shoes the moment I slipped my feet into them at Neiman Marcus when trying on dresses. (Note: it’s a clever sales trick to bring into the dressing room a nice pair of shoes to ease your trying on experience.) I made a valiant effort to distract myself with non-Prada alternatives. The Kate Spade pumps referenced in the above equation were too pointy. The Stuart Weitzman Platswoons in adobe had a significant gap at the heel. Time was ticking. I had a dress. I needed a shoe.
So now I’m the happy owner of a gorgeous pair of buff patent leather Prada pumps with the perfect heel height and a tasteful platform. They are not my every day shoes. I dread the day a heel gets caught in between the uneven cobblestones of an under-maintenanced DC sidewalk. They will never see the rain or be the guest at a reception held on a carpet of grass. They aren’t quite special occasion shoes, but most certainly are great date night shoes or “I’m having a big day” shoes.
Regardless of whether I wear my Prada splurge walking down the halls of Congress or behind closed doors, these shoes make me feel powerful. And that feeling is worth every penny.