Hi everyone!
I'm new here, a friend referred me. Seems like every time I see a gorgeous pair of shoes and think "OMG I LOVE those shoes", they end up being Christian Louboutin. I had been an admirer for a long time and finally took the plunge when I came across a pair of Very Brode in blue suede at a great deal. I had been searching for wedding shoes for a VERY long time, and these were the answers to my prayers. There could be no other shoes. I wrote down my experience when they arrived for my bridal forum, and my friend said I should share it with you. Forgive the Ebay picture, I haven't gotten around to taking any yet.
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I tried them on and they're awesome. I'm not used to the toe cleavage, but I know that's how they're supposed to look. I'll need to pair them with something other than flannel pajama pants. Scenario went something like this:
Knock on Door, Dogs go bonkers, I look out the window and see the mail man and squeal "SHOOOOOOOOEEEEEESSSSS!" Climb over the love seat which almost tips over and flips me into the wall. Fling open the door and grab for the box. Mail man glares at me. "Signature confirmation" he says. I scribble something that even a pharmacist couldn't interpret as my name and yoink the box away from him and slam the door. Seconds later, I meekly open it again to accept the rest of the mail.
I can't find scissors anywhere. For a few brief seconds I contemplate going out to buy scissors. That's just crazy, so I used a butcher knife. Slowly I pulled the shoe box out of the mailer. A small scuff on the corner of the label catches my eye. I find it odd that something as sublime and glorious as these shoes are contained in a non descript cardboard shoe box with a white adhesive label. The only note to the perfection contained within is the white label screen printed on the lid, in a combination of bold serifs and free flowing, script: "Christian Louboutin".
I don't realize I'm holding my breath until I gasped in anticipation of seeing my gorgemous footwear. Instead there is a soft dust bag in scarlet red. A dust bag is good though. A sign of class and distinction. I carefully lay it over the back of the couch (Obscuring the blade of the deadly kitchen knife from view), peeling back the white tissue paper. All the vocab words I ever learned left me as I let out a "PRETTY!" in so high a pitch the dogs started crying.
I examined the embroidery, stitches so tiny they were invisible to the naked eye, the applique flowed seamlessly into itself, no gaps, no uneven edges. The suede was as soft as a baby puppy's ear, the understated blue an elegant compliment to that infamous red sole. The heel is deliciously, wickedly high, with black scroll work dripping down the back, tapering until the heel ends in the tiny footprint that defines a stiletto. I fight the urge to lick them.
Taking a deep breath I slide my right foot into the appropriate shoe. I don't want to put my weight on it, God forbid my shoes begin to wear unevenly, even for a second. I sit on the couch and slip the left shoe on. I stare, lost in the transformation of my feet. I don't even notice my severe want of a pedicure. The Christian Louboutins have made the basest of all body parts, the lowly feet, into a thing of beauty. I am slow to coming to grips with the fact that dare I say it, my feet are sexy! Heaving bossoms, pert round bums, curvaceous hips, and flat lightly muscled tummies, their sensuality doesn't come close to the designer draped pedistry.
I push myself up to a standing position, rolling myself onto my toes. I doubt the petite heel can hold my beastish weight. I picture them snapping under the pressure, me pitching back on my over proportioned rear end, and being banned from all houses of fashion for having destroyed a work of art such as these shoes. Oh but Monsieur Louboutin, your shoes are delicate feats of engineering, and they take my full weight without a second thought. I take 4 steps and I can feel my legs lengthening, my shoulders coming back, my eyes beginning to smolder, my lips curling into a smirk. All too soon I come to the end of the carpet, my rapture is halted as I will not do these shoes the disservice of leaving the minimal plushness of my worn down carpet. Not yet. I'm not ready.
With the sorrow that a chain smoker feels, tossing their last cigarette before they go into the hospital to spend hours with a loved one on an oxygen tank, I remove the shoes from my person. My feet again become mundane blobs of flesh at the end of my stumpy hideous legs.
We have an exciting time ahead of us Shoes. You will be my something blue, and take the pain that is dress fittings (And that obscenely high number, may it rot in hell forever) and will negate it with your magical powers so I can feel beautiful the way I should. You will carry me down the aisle, allowing me to float with every step, to the end where you will lift me eye to eye with my beloved on my wedding day. I will call upon you when I have need of you to make me feel like an amazing woman, or when I know I am an amazing woman and just need to rub it in the rest of the world's face.
We are going to have a wonderful life together Shoes.
I'm new here, a friend referred me. Seems like every time I see a gorgeous pair of shoes and think "OMG I LOVE those shoes", they end up being Christian Louboutin. I had been an admirer for a long time and finally took the plunge when I came across a pair of Very Brode in blue suede at a great deal. I had been searching for wedding shoes for a VERY long time, and these were the answers to my prayers. There could be no other shoes. I wrote down my experience when they arrived for my bridal forum, and my friend said I should share it with you. Forgive the Ebay picture, I haven't gotten around to taking any yet.
---------------------
I tried them on and they're awesome. I'm not used to the toe cleavage, but I know that's how they're supposed to look. I'll need to pair them with something other than flannel pajama pants. Scenario went something like this:
Knock on Door, Dogs go bonkers, I look out the window and see the mail man and squeal "SHOOOOOOOOEEEEEESSSSS!" Climb over the love seat which almost tips over and flips me into the wall. Fling open the door and grab for the box. Mail man glares at me. "Signature confirmation" he says. I scribble something that even a pharmacist couldn't interpret as my name and yoink the box away from him and slam the door. Seconds later, I meekly open it again to accept the rest of the mail.
I can't find scissors anywhere. For a few brief seconds I contemplate going out to buy scissors. That's just crazy, so I used a butcher knife. Slowly I pulled the shoe box out of the mailer. A small scuff on the corner of the label catches my eye. I find it odd that something as sublime and glorious as these shoes are contained in a non descript cardboard shoe box with a white adhesive label. The only note to the perfection contained within is the white label screen printed on the lid, in a combination of bold serifs and free flowing, script: "Christian Louboutin".
I don't realize I'm holding my breath until I gasped in anticipation of seeing my gorgemous footwear. Instead there is a soft dust bag in scarlet red. A dust bag is good though. A sign of class and distinction. I carefully lay it over the back of the couch (Obscuring the blade of the deadly kitchen knife from view), peeling back the white tissue paper. All the vocab words I ever learned left me as I let out a "PRETTY!" in so high a pitch the dogs started crying.
I examined the embroidery, stitches so tiny they were invisible to the naked eye, the applique flowed seamlessly into itself, no gaps, no uneven edges. The suede was as soft as a baby puppy's ear, the understated blue an elegant compliment to that infamous red sole. The heel is deliciously, wickedly high, with black scroll work dripping down the back, tapering until the heel ends in the tiny footprint that defines a stiletto. I fight the urge to lick them.
Taking a deep breath I slide my right foot into the appropriate shoe. I don't want to put my weight on it, God forbid my shoes begin to wear unevenly, even for a second. I sit on the couch and slip the left shoe on. I stare, lost in the transformation of my feet. I don't even notice my severe want of a pedicure. The Christian Louboutins have made the basest of all body parts, the lowly feet, into a thing of beauty. I am slow to coming to grips with the fact that dare I say it, my feet are sexy! Heaving bossoms, pert round bums, curvaceous hips, and flat lightly muscled tummies, their sensuality doesn't come close to the designer draped pedistry.
I push myself up to a standing position, rolling myself onto my toes. I doubt the petite heel can hold my beastish weight. I picture them snapping under the pressure, me pitching back on my over proportioned rear end, and being banned from all houses of fashion for having destroyed a work of art such as these shoes. Oh but Monsieur Louboutin, your shoes are delicate feats of engineering, and they take my full weight without a second thought. I take 4 steps and I can feel my legs lengthening, my shoulders coming back, my eyes beginning to smolder, my lips curling into a smirk. All too soon I come to the end of the carpet, my rapture is halted as I will not do these shoes the disservice of leaving the minimal plushness of my worn down carpet. Not yet. I'm not ready.
With the sorrow that a chain smoker feels, tossing their last cigarette before they go into the hospital to spend hours with a loved one on an oxygen tank, I remove the shoes from my person. My feet again become mundane blobs of flesh at the end of my stumpy hideous legs.
We have an exciting time ahead of us Shoes. You will be my something blue, and take the pain that is dress fittings (And that obscenely high number, may it rot in hell forever) and will negate it with your magical powers so I can feel beautiful the way I should. You will carry me down the aisle, allowing me to float with every step, to the end where you will lift me eye to eye with my beloved on my wedding day. I will call upon you when I have need of you to make me feel like an amazing woman, or when I know I am an amazing woman and just need to rub it in the rest of the world's face.
We are going to have a wonderful life together Shoes.
Enjoy your beautiful new SHHHHHOOOOOOOOEEEESSSSSS!!!
-and a dress to go with them. In the meantime, we all seem to end up pairing PJs and robes with our CLs LOL (see "your CLs in action" thread,,,)
