The perfect accompaniment to Swirl: these sexy, racy Sling Backs. Oh if only I could really, truly do more than stumble mere millimeters in them...SLING BACKS
BY GEORGINA
Brad and Jen had just split up when, one Friday afternoon, I found myself in Coconut Grove. As it was gray and threatening looking, I had my fuchsia Totes ready and waiting.
Pedro Almodovar’s La Mala Educacion had just made it to Cocowalk. After parking and grabbing a quick bite to eat, I’d breathlessly climbed the three flights of stairs to the theater.
I was not disappointed.
Emerging in between movies, I was greeted by a torrential downpour. On the eleven o’clock news that night, I heard it had all come down within twenty minutes. Indeed, during the twenty minutes when I rushed down the stairs for a gelato.
In Good Company, an entertaining romp, also managed to hold my attention. As I had slept well the previous night, I was wide-awake.
So awake, in fact, that I decided to spend more time in the area.
Proceeding in the general direction of
A wonderful assortment of flats: some in suede, and one memorable pair in leather flanked by patent leather that actually curled up when I tried it on; some ridiculously high-heeled pumps; and the store’s signature platform wedgies greeted me. Teeter-tottering, hanging on by the tips of my fingers, I struggled to retain my balance.
Would you like to sit down, a clean-cut, clear-eyed young salesperson sporting a chain with a small cross on it, asked me.
Stubbornly resistant, I said, no, thanks. The young man began to follow me around as I futilely tried on pair after pair, grimacing as I went. As he seemed nice, and kind, I began to speak with him.
I’m a writer, I said. I’m studying to be a teacher, he said. I used to be a teacher. Oh. What kind. I told him. What are you interested in? History. Oh.
When I mentioned I’d just seen La Mala Educacion, he said that was the next movie he wanted to see. He’d seen Maria Full of Grace. That’s what it’s like on the streets of
Deciding to lighten things up, I switched to the obvious: shoes. My feet. Did you notice my hammertoes? Yes. He seemed to know quite a bit about shoes. He seemed to know a great deal about a great many things.
Returning to writing, I told him, I want to write for your generation. OK, he responded, a little hesitantly, yet kindly.
Shoes. I can’t do shoes, but I can do purses. And bras. Woman things, you know. Girl things. These are the primary girl things, are they not? He agreed.
Hair. There’s also hair. And jeans. Those low-riders, where you can see everything when a girl bends over, right? Do you like that? He fudged a bit on this one.
Hey, what are guy things, I then asked him. Looking up, I noticed his neat, razor-short hair; his trim, almost invisible, beard. Hair’s a guy thing, yes? He agreed.
What else do guys care about? Jeans, he said, looking down at his own. Having their hems hit the shoes just so. Having them hang just so. What about the underpants hanging out of the jeans? I’m still into them, he sheepishly admitted. Whereupon he raised his T-shirt a bit, revealing the gray tops of his underpants.
It’s hard to break my teenage habits, he said. Thinking back on my own teenage habits, I fuzzily remember octagonal wire-rimmed glasses; long, curly hair. And jeans.
Jeans and hair: that’s what girls and guys have in common. We both agreed.
Saying goodbye, I didn’t feel as if I was leaving empty-handed. Sling backs: I’d purchased a pair of low-heeled, T-strap sandals covered with a fun, colorful print containing flowers, a pensive woman, and a thought bubble: “Ah. Ah. This is funny!” that somewhat qualify as sling backs during my last visit.
This time, a pensive young man managed to sling me back in time. Now to see if it’s true that Sling Blade’s ex is responsible for The Split.
Oh, what we care about.
Copyright, 2005 by Georgina Marrero 710 words All Rights Reserved
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