Wardrobe Malfunctions: Full Stop
I don’t know about you, but when I plan an outfit for an event, I have a vision – and that vision is normally set around my shoes or one statement piece. Let’s not kid ourselves, it is the shoes. My husband, bless his soul, looks in my closet frequently and says to me, “Babe, you can’t possibly need all these?” Oh, sweet prince, how can I count the ways?
However, with a full stable of beautiful footwear comes an elusive danger waiting in the wings – what I call the “full stop” when wearing a stiletto. This is when you’re walking on a surface that has just enough room in the separation of a board or tile, and your heel becomes stuck – causing you to stop completely in your tracks.
Yep, a lot of you are nodding, aren’t you? The thing about the “full stop” is that it isn’t just one incident. Uh-huh, no, you can either do the super scared suck-in-scream sound and grab onto the nearest thing to you for stability (also a potential crisis), or you simply fall forward. Fashion is not for the faint of heart, my friends.
The “full stop” can happen anywhere and at any time. There is never a real way to prepare for the full stop other than strategically planning your stride to avoid the separation in the boardwalk planks. I’ve done this. It did not work out. My husband distracted me and like a fresh model on the runway in seven-inch platforms, I lost stride and the result was Drama Mama worthy. Let us begin.
It is a rare occasion when I can get my husband to “event” with me. He is my lovely quiet guy. Not really into the scene. So, when he does go out, I make it a point to put on some great shoes. We were attending a wedding and I had on a beautiful flowing dress and he was looking sharp in his Italian cut pants. Yes ma’am.
I have this picture in my mind that we looked like those super cool action heroes that walk away from an explosion in slow motion. That’s what I saw, but I’m sure it was something more akin to the Brady Bunch, but this is my story, so fire, wind, flowing hair is our mood.
It was such a lovely time, in the beginning, pre-“full stop”. I had avoided all the looming cracks and possible catastrophes for my stilettos and life was good – until le husband wanted to be romantic. See, the shoes work every time. My shoe situation for the evening? Purple suede Jimmy Choo strappy sandals.
In my head I am applauding myself for my brilliance because I LOVE being romanced while wearing a flowy dress. Give me my Johanna Lindsay moment! So, we walked outside, and he decided we should walk down the boardwalk and have a nice stroll on the beach. Lovely.
I am all jazzed and feeling like Naomi Campbell just strutting. Full on Chanel Mademoiselle commercial happening, people. I am mentally accounting for the planks and avoiding the gaps all while being a magical unicorn when my husband turns to me and smiles, you know, one of those, smiles and I did this shy little look away. I TOOK MY EYES OFF OF THE PRIZE!
I lost count. Heel goes directly into the gap and I go FULL STOP. Ladies, every bit of sexy went out the door at that exact moment. Family, I looked like a baby dear on ice the way my body came out from underneath me.
I made the most horrendous sound of panic, turned into an instant ninja trying to reach into the air for anything to grab onto, and then fell forward – flat. My husband came running over, at least that is what I heard – I was face down playing dead of mortification.
The next couple of seconds were a blur. I just stayed there in the prone position hoping Brian’s vision was like a T-Rex and based on movement and refused to move. He was trying to help me up, but my shoe was stuck and just a reminder, these are strappy heels, so my foot is secured to the shoe. It was twilight out so there weren’t any real pedestrians besides us, but can’t you picture that chic show if you are walking by?
By this point, my poor husband is so nervous he is laughing, while I of course stare up at him like he has three heads. He has freed my foot from purgatory and I ask him where in the hell are my “Choo’s” and he hands me one shoe still intact while the other looks like I took an emery board to the back heel.
For some inexplicable reason, my husband was responsible. I held my Choo up to him like Simba being presented, and I said, “You made me lose count!” Of course, he didn’t know what I meant, and it looked like he was trying to solve a mathematical equation the likes of which could solve infinite energy problems. It was a deep reflective stare. He was clearly formulating his response carefully.
Somewhere between a half laugh and terror he joked, “Don’t Choo still want to walk on the beach?”
You guys, I laid right there and belly laughed for what felt like five minutes. He sat there with my Choo’s in his hand and laughed with me at my “full stop” moment. He may not like to event, but he does make it a point to learn about my universe and when the man can make a Jimmy Choo pun to defuse a moment – c’est l’amour.