Fashionless...

I've been so busy blogging away about literary stuff recently that I fear I have neglected the fashionable side of life...and this despite the fact that I have not been a complete fashion victim these last few days.

Actually, I'm Little Miss New Shoes right now, thanks to the splendiferous joys of John Fluevog. When Devilman and I were in New York City some weeks past, we spent a fun (for me anyway--thankfully he had an Economist to keep him from dying of boredom) afternoon cruising the delights of Noho, Soho and Nolita. In Nolita, we stopped at the Fluevog emporium which was that day celebrating the birthday of its designer via cupcakes and an awesome sale.

Fluevog shoes are deliberately edgy, and rather old-timey, combining teardrop shaped heels with buttons and bows to make one delicious devilish package . And unlike many high-heels which are lovely to look at but torture to wear, Fluevog's rubber soles means you do not feel like the Little Mermaid five minutes into slipping them on. Unable to transport shoes home back to Chicago without violating my strict carry-on only luggage policy, upon my return to Porkpolis I rushed post-haste to Wicker Park and made these beauties mine.

Ain't they sweet?

You'll be able to see them in person at the ALA, where they shall grace my winsome feet, tho' the bows will then, of course, be hot pink. Devilman tried to talk me into getting these, which are even more spectacular, but frankly, I was a bit afraid of the Springheel Jack effect--they aren't as glittery as his boots, but surely once on, they'd be equally as hard to get off.

Tra-la!