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Taxi Shoes: The Morning After

May 3, 2009

We called for Nicola at 5:45. Rang the bell, tapped our feet and glanced around–it was too early for that much make-up, too late to turn back and swab some of it from our eyelids and cheeks. She was slow to answer, probably teetering through the house on heels that already pinched in all the worst places, foreshadowing the blisters of 11 p.m. Neighbours stared from a porch across the way, hoisted king-cans of Labatt 50, nudged one another and checked out our bums. When she opened the door at last, Nicola gave us an appraising up-and-down, but we hustled her aside with a sharp, “Oh for god’s sake, let us in! This is all too lurid for dinnertime”

Taxi shoes: too tall for walking, too pretty to remain stuffed in the closet. The solution? Pricey cab fares across town then home again. We played fashion show, demonstrated our steady moves, perfectly executed spins and turns, cautious dance steps. Rather fine, rather sassy, if I do say so myself.

But, despite our bravery, despite our stout hearts and determined gait, despite the taxis and the cocktails and the cocktails and the cocktails, by midnight, the shoes simply had to give…

…and, a few “notes to self”, gleaned from Taxi Shoe Night: tiny pickles are not food, nor are spears of melon and small squares of cheesecake (at least not when consumed together to the exclusion of other more substantial dinner); come midnight, those hot pink panythose will do you wrong; go to the ATM mid-afternoon rather than midway through Taxi Shoe Night–it will save you valuable mileage when you don’t have to walk a couple blocks between bar and cab…mileage you can redeem when you need to climb up and down three flights of stairs between your table and the ladies room.

5 Comments leave one →
  1. Becca permalink
    May 5, 2009 5:21 pm

    I love the term “Taxi Shoes.” It’s one of the best descriptions ever of going out shoes. I’m too cheap to take a taxi though so I always end up with blisters and broken shoe heels.

  2. Amanda permalink
    May 6, 2009 9:27 am

    The secret is, you team up with a posse of ladies and amongst you, your pocketbooks can safely absorb the cab fare. And, another benefit is: you do NOT drink your wallet dry.

    Typically, that one last round does you in…if you need to pay a taxi driver, you forego the final shot of whatever poison you starting swilling after four hours in taxi shoes with your girlfriends.

  3. looka permalink
    May 8, 2009 6:29 am

    I can’t even wear my hair high, so respectful nodding to you ladies.

    Also in a drinking situation, my feet don’t have the training for pencil balance, I’d go over my ankles.

    Unelastic material around my feet seems pretty scary to me, that’s why I preffer the good old classy sneaker. Not classy maybe to others but safe and fun in my case!

  4. Irene Zion permalink
    April 16, 2010 6:23 pm

    Those green and blue ones made me swoon!
    Just tell me when and where!


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