Dreaming of Manolos (again)

Last night I had a big, fat nightmare. I won’t go into details, but I think a lost child on Brighton Beach (not my one) might have twisted my melons (he was found safely after ten minutes, but the lifeguards were out and everything – cripes).

My new strategy, when a night terror leaves me cold, is to think about shoes. It’s the only train of thought I can manage at 2am when I’ve just gone from picking extra large blueberries to being shot down in a Matrix-style assassin chase (my mind is a disturbing place, sometimes).

Over breakfast, when I relayed my early hours’ pondering, my other half  pointed out that I have ‘only just’ spent £400 on a pair of Manolos that I have worn once (actually, twice, but I’ll let that slide). But since trying on the navy blue pair in Barney’s when we were last Stateside, I am obsessed with the ‘Campy’ Mary Jane’s in nude. I think I have to have them.

In the dead of night, I resolved to go to the Manolo store in Chelsea to see if they exist there, but appaz you have to ring a bell to gain access to the shop and I can’t really get with that.

My dreams feel further dashed by the fact that I was supposed to be in New York this weekend (yes, like, right now) on a press trip, and could have hunted them down at Barney’s, but the coverage the airline suddenly wanted in exchange for my seat on the plane was absolutely un-doable. Buggeration, indeed.

Maybe just the thought of them will be enough to keep the bad dreams at bay … or maybe I need to take drastic action.

Written by Johanna Payton