Fuck that noise

I've been accused of Trixie-like behavior by my sister. Perhaps there have been a few "incidents" lately which would lead her to assume I like fashion, but this assumption is based upon one of my twenty nine years of wearing or buying clothing, and is thusly specious. In the interest of preserving my identity, I will explain the bags and the heels:

The Bags:
They are gifts, GIFTS (except for the red Prada and the green Balenciaga which are fake, FAKE!) I only think of them as receptacles for my necessities. Perhaps I like to swap them out depending on the shoes I am wearing, you know, crocodile with red strappy, and so on and so forth, but this is justifiable. Every woman knows how important the shoe/bag combo is. Why it's almost primal. I mean...come on.

The Heels:
They're soooo pretty. I was shopping on Melrose, for hiking boots and a fishing pole surely, when I happened upon a leather goods store. I was taken aback by the shiny specimens perched in the window. I thought that I should try them on, and when I did, they looked so good on my feet that I couldn't take them off. They bewitched me.

So that's like, what? Five, maybe thirty, incidents?

At least I don't let fashion run my life, like my sister, maxing out my finances for that new trend so's I can throw some voodoo at the local high school seniors, "Oh, you like my jeans? Wanna come play my Xbox? I'll buy you and your teammates beer."

Cougar.

Comments

Posted by: TheTrixie at June 21, 2006 12:53 PM

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