Friday, August 21, 2009

T H I G H . H I G H . A S B O

Ughh. How frustrating.

For those of you who have swatched any of my back dated posts months back you'll remember the thigh high obsession which is still on going. To bring you quickly up to date on the current situation here is a time line of recent activity.

10th August - Bought Elle magazine and spot fashion assistant Donna Wallace in thigh high heaven courtesy of Karren Millen. Listed at £350

11th August - Promptly put my name down on the list for these bad boys at every single store in central London. The wait will give me time to find cash.

14th August - I spotted the Topshop BRITANY black suede over the knee boots have been re listed, only £100, but have sold out of my size. Balls. It's a sign I'm just not meant for high street, dahling!

18th August - Spot that they now have my size in stock! Ha! Save money and buy a dress then!

20th August
(morning) - Does one call in sick, in order to wait in all day for boots?

(afternoon) - Impatiently waiting on them arriving. Online delivery status say they have arrived at 15:48. Oh only 8 hours after they were loaded into the delivery van at 07:48, according to the staTus! That's not what I call 'next day delivery'. That's 'next afternoon and then some, maybe after I've stopped for lunch' delivery. Fuck sake. Contemplating feigning illness in order to be sent home from work and play with my new suede legs!

(evening) - Eh, they are not here! I climb the walls of my house kicking things, punching the wall and making high pitched whining noises... Find a scrunched up green 'we tried to deliver' note. It's been left at my neighbours at number 12. Joyus! I beat down their door at 10:30pm. When trying to gain access to someones house via them opening the door their, there are certain steps to take before resorting to a ladder and a window. (I'm referring to the squatter who broke into my house last week, another hilarious story I shan't let you in on).

1. Door bell
2. Knock
3. Knock louder
4. Bang door with palm of hand
5. Shout through letter box (shouting 'Police' can help depending on what area you are in)
6. If door has a metal security gate slam it a few times.
7. I realise I'm banging on 13, not 12. Christ, are these boots worth an asbo?

Note: If the door does have a metal security gate I wouldn't shout 'police' unless you fancy catching them as they exit the house via the back garden.

(even later) - I have a full blown public melt down on Facebook. I vow to wake up at 6am and beat down their door, again.

(almost midnight) - Knock on the door, my lovely neighbour whose door I almost knocked off it's hinges brings the boots over. I gush with gratitude and look a little bleary eyed like I might cry or kiss him. He makes a quick exit.

12:30am - Try them on with whole wardrobe, nothing works. Parade around in front of the house mates who have all drank two bottles of red wine and would probably have still applauded if I'd walked in wearing wellies.

21st August

8am - Text my fashion sole mate (yes sole as in shoe). She is having a similar dilemma over ACNE's Atacoma wedges. QUEL COLOR? her text read, NOIR ET BRAUN is my response. Her advice is to return them if my heart is not in them, and here was me thinking they were for my feet.

2pm I need one more opinion, the don of all heart wrenching decisions, my own personal Dalai Lama, my mother. Her wisdom is just what I need.

"Why do I worry about you? Here's me worrying about you as a mother and all you worry about is shoes!"

A tad hurt I tell her that's not true. I worry about lots of things, like knitwear, and handbags, and leggings.

Which brings me up to now, and you up to full speed. They are boxed up and ready to go back to their maker. It was nice while is lasted my long legged chums, au revoir!

The search continues...

1 comment:

Kierra said...

reminds me of my search for thigh highs! I had the Britany's and sent them back too, something just didnt work...