I had the perfect shoe in mind to go with my scarlet, one shoulder cocktail dress. Black, closed toe, t-strap, moderate heel. And apparently not something that's been in style since the 1950s.
My husband also needed shoes, so we went out and started hitting store after store around the city looking for my t-straps and his new dress shoes. He was being all picky about the dress shoes though, and basic black just wasn't what he wanted.
|His new shoes and my old ones.|
He rolled his eyes as he walked in, and then those eyes went wide. More than half the store was men's shoes, and they were unique. Super unique and ostentatious, loud as hell and totally his style. As he ran around collecting shoes, waving various dress shoes at me ("These have horses on them!") I wandered through the store and realized they didn't have my t-straps, turned around and my husband was sitting, surrounded by shoes talking to the shop owner.
Twenty minutes later we walked out of the store and my husband was toting bags with two new pairs of shoes in them. I had nothing. He had patent leather and pony hair, and I had nothing. He had blood red and white stitching and I was wearing old shoes.
When I started whining on the way home about how he got two new pairs of shoes and I got nothing he turned to me and said, "Your shoes are nice and no one has seen them. Mine were cruddy looking and I need nice shoes since my wife is the shoe queen, I can't be seen with cruddy shoes."
You win this round hubs. But next time we go shopping, it's all about me and finding those t-straps.