B and I are heading to Vegas for our 10th anniversary this year. We’re going to have the Elvis ceremony of my dreams, which pretty much just means we’re having an Elvis ceremony. I love me some Elvis.
In part, this is just a huge fabrication of excuse to get to wear my wedding gown again. I didn’t have enough of it the first time, so I fully intend to wear it* around Las Vegas until I can’t stand it anymore. What I did get enough of the first time were my shoes.
I honestly can’t even remember how it started, at this point, but my shoes became the focal point of my decorating ten years ago. I wore pink marabou slippers from Frederick’s of Hollywood. I wore them in our engagement photos. I made graphics of them (along with B’s boot) to go on the invitations and thank you cards. I bought pink, shoe-shaped handsoaps for favors**. The day of the wedding, I’d worn those high-heeled slippers for much longer than a boudoir shoe is meant to be worn, and I was having trouble walking by the time we made it through our wee-church nazi regulated-cake & punch reception.
I will not be wearing those shoes again.
I will be keeping those shoes in the closet, wrapped up in their box.
Last night, I started looking for new shoes. I’ve been casually eyeballing footwear for the past year, since I booked our vacation in February, 2013.
I looked at Shoes of Prey, where you can make your own shoe. I looked in stores. I looked online. I wanted something similar to what I’d worn before, but more comfortable. You know what that means? That means (if I want a pink, marabou shoe) stripper heels.
Stripper heels have excellent padding for the ball of the foot, and good arch support. Otherwise, you couldn’t stand in them for very long, much less dance. Your tips probably go down if you are grimacing and limping, though I’m sure there’s an audience for that, too.
But it’s 10 years later. I will have Elvis. I decided to let Elvis be my marabou shoe. I ordered a very cute T-Strap pump–much more sedate. Looks to be much more comfortable. Here’s hoping it fits.
*10 years and a big headed baby later, I’m feeling pretty good about not only fitting into my dress, but fitting into it beautifully. Yes, I’m bragging.
**A very bad idea, in retrospect. A lot of people thought they were candies. Oops.