Monday, October 27, 2008

Balancing on the narrow edge (2)

It’s only 5:30, but I hate getting ready at the last minute. It’s a process I like to enjoy at my own pace, so I tend to make it last. Standing in front of my wardrobe, half-dressed in black undergarments and stockings, I pick out my shoes before picking out my clothes, trying to ignore the revolting hunger sounds of my growling stomach. I choose a pair of black elegant shiny high-heel vertigo-inducing boots and put them on – without making a thread in my stockings, which is an exploit in itself – my favourites. Elegant, classy, but more importantly, sexy as hell. Perfect to make me look like a mysterious vamp for tonight’s date with Christophe. He’ll only be thinking of one thing when he sees me walking in those boots – having me for desert. Now I only need a dress that won’t make me look too obvious. Come to think of it, when I go on a date, I always end up wearing those boots – for some reason, they seem to answer an existential question which meaning eludes me. I sometimes wear them to write – I feel like I’m walking in someone else’s shoes, and that, my friends, makes my work a lot easier.