Mostly – with the exception of the wrong sized ironing board cover which remains on the side, taunting me daily, but not so much I actually do anything about it – I’m pretty good at online shopping. I could do it professionally if anyone needed me to, or if such a job even existed.
Yet every now and then a blooper comes along. Except this time, it’s a glamorous, gorgeous one which made me skip round the kitchen with glee.
I succumbed to the House of Fraser sale. Specifically, to shoes. I neeeed new shoes as, frankly, after nearly three years of being at home striding over nappies and over toddlers I’ve earned them. Plus, slippers are generally frowned upon outside of the house. And they let water in if you step in a puddle.
After a pair of black comfortable flat ballet pumps (I’m so 1990’s) I found a pair online that I thought were nude. They were an absolute steal so I clicked them into my basket, thinking that I’d keep them for summer.
They arrived today.
They ain’t nude, peeps. They’s glittery. ACTUAL REAL LIVE SPARKLY SHOES.
I’m in heaven.
They make me young again. One click of my heels and I’m dancing with my best friends in a dodgy nightclub in London, giving it large to the Backstreet Boys and getting on up with Five. I thought I was totally cool. In reality, I dance like the zebra at the start of Madagascar doing his showtime routine. But who cares? Those were fun times.
It’s enough to make me drink champagne and dance on the table. Who’s with me?