My shoes give me a culture shock

My shoes give me a culture shock

Oh! I love fresh kicks. I just can’t stop drooling over their feel, their looks, their makes and continue piling on the increasing numbers in my rack.
So recently when I heard two new Dubaiites talking of going footwear-shopping, I threw myself into their conversation uninvited and enthusiastic, like children would when their birthday party is being planned – they know the best.
From sales and deals and formals to party dos and beach wears and matching boots, I ranted out the malls that housed identical and branded ones of each type. 


Picture Courtesy: MorgueFile
Soon the two new colleagues became my admirers. Now that gave me a further kick, exactly like the high I feel when I try a new pair on. I soon began recounting tales of a finicky acquaintance who matches her hairdos with that of her sandal fabric. She adjusts the bounce of her tresses with the length of her heels. They were in splits when I said how she reminds me of a well-bred shiny horse that moves its well-chiselled head in rhythm with its banged tail.
I quickly learnt the duo belong to the same breed. They were both Thoroughbreds! But now I had treaded too far that I couldn’t just pull my foot out – it was stuck in the wrong place. The classic case of putting one’s foot in the mouth.
“So you have a shoe fetish,” they chorused.
Oh yeah! I added with vanity oozing.
“My only regret is not getting all my pairs, you know. The damn baggage limit. How I hate airline rules,” said one.
“Tell me about it, I just could pack 109 pairs. Have asked my mom to send across the rest,” said the other and added “it feels good to know someone shares the same craze as me. So how many pairs do you have?”
I pretended not to hear and said why don’t you head to Dubai Mall? Suddenly my fetish seemed amateurish. My treasured 35 numbers seemed kiddish.
Alas, the show jumping was well underway…”I’ve never seen you in heels.”
“You don’t believe in stilettos to work, yeah,” one of them inadvertently came to my rescue.
“I just cannot stay off them,” said Miss 109.
As if she sleeps in them, too. Why do women exaggerate any indulgence that’s already brimming all rationale norms anyways!
With a new-found determination, I said, “you’ll only see me in flats.”
“Somehow, I find flats washroom culture!,” said Ms Baggage Limit, and quickly uttered a “sorry, I didn’t mean anything personal.”
Washroom or prayer meet, party bash or official forum and no matter what the dress code I stay loyal to my moccasins, flip-flops, grungy crocs or strappy wedges. The farthest I can walk holding my vertebrae upright in is on kitten heels.
Now I need to quickly come up with a name for people like me. Who would love to say they have a fetish for shoes, even when their pairs do not cross primary double digits; who cannot walk on heels even when threatened by a firing squad; and who hates being categorised under washroom culture!

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