"Sweet creeping zombie Elvis" Karen said as I walked into the bar, "Don't you own any sandals?"
I had put on a black short-sleeved sweater, jeans, and red pointy-toed cowboy boots. Karen's reaction caught me off guard until she explained that it's *spring*, dammit, and I ought to be showing off my toes.
"As a matter of fact," she continued, "I don't think you own anything that isn't a T-shirt."
She had a point.
Next thing I knew, she was pulling out her Palm Widget and making plans for us to go shopping. In a few days, I'll be heading out with a woman who is well over six feet tall and who holds a BA in fashion merchandising.
I forestalled her, though. Today I went shopping. Heh.
I bought two--*two*-- pairs of sandals. One is brown and low-heeled, with complex straps across the top of the foot; the other is black with one big strap across the toes and a pair of D-rings for decoration. The black pair has higher heels. Don't ask me why the D-rings; I assume it's Fashion.
Also a nice handbag. "Don't you own another purse?" Karen asked, eyeing my Peruvian woven shoulder-bag distastefully. The new one is black leather, shaped like a doctor's bag, and has muted white stitching and silver hardware. It's softer than the nicest pair of shoes I own and the handles fall over perfectly when you set it down.
And a linen suit. Nota bene: check out Target's new spring suits. And a pair of black cropped pants. And a blue linen man's shirt.
And three V-neck Hanes T-shirts. Hey, a girl's gotta be true to her inner Fashion Maven.