I have had the worst morning. First, I was trying to kick start a “health plan” this morning and instead found myself eating take-out Tikka Masala which has not been kind to my food baby. Then, I settled into my sofa and while trolling the depths of my DVR accidentally deleted the fucking Britney Jean special that documented Britney preparing for her Vegas residency… I will never forgive myself for that. Does it get much worse than that? Yes, yes it does.
This is truly difficult to write. Anyone who knows me knows that I love three things unconditionally; my dog Leo, swapping clearance stickers on full price items and Sarah Jessica Parker. Even as a fabulously emaciated middle schooler, I was dreaming of a floor length fur and even tried that awkward Carrie Bradshaw waist belt look.
My infatuation wasn’t just limited to the fictitious Carrie Bradshaw, I was/am heavily involved in everything SJP. When she thought Gap was cool, I thought Gap was cool. When she went to Paris and got slapped, I went to Paris and tried to get slapped. When she had a surrogate birth her twins, I volunteered my vagina to bear her children. SJP in many ways was the chic older sister I always wanted.
Sure our noses aren’t great but what we lack in facial symmetry we always made up for in thought provoking brunches and killer accessories. Duh!
Last year I went through a serious low point when I saw the debut of the SJP shoe collection, I was in a serious downward spiral and on the verge of a Lexapro prescription. This year I was certain we would move towards greener pastures and advanced heel heights. I decided to dedicate last night to channel my inner SJP and check out the new collection. To get in the spirit I had an honorary cosmopolitan (not my vibe), a brief affair with my buildings maintenance man and left a break-up post it on his tool case. I stole some co-ed twins from a nearby elementary school and then called my bff Andy Cohen to catch up and discuss which designer to collab with for my Met ball look since my usual go-tos are both dead… RIP.
Once I was feeling like the best celebrity inspired version of myself, I sat down with my heart aflutter and googled “SJP shoe collection 2015”. The instant I pressed enter I knew it was a mistake… Here is the very first image I clicked on.
I couldn’t decide whether to laugh, cry or hurl my body off my balcony. HEART CUT OUTS? ARE THOSE MULES? PATENT LEATHER? These shoes are perfect for your quirky 76 year old Aunt who lives in the inland empire and loves to dress up for holidays. Think light up snowflake earrings on Christmas, cornucopia sweaters on Thanksgiving and THESE FUCKING MULES ON VALENTINES DAYS. Festive and fashion forward! GAG ME.
Now after further research, the rest of the collection is MUCH BETTER and way less geriatric than prior collections. But honestly, Carrie wouldn’t be caught DEAD in that shoe. Fuck, even Suri Cruise wouldn’t rock that fucking mule to her tri-weekly therapy appointment. I still love you SJP and hope one day we will have a good laugh about this over a charcuterie plate and drinks al fresco.