Tuesday, 10 June 2008

Packages Tied Up With String...

Department Stores are in a frenzy of theoretical stocktake sales at the moment and I got suckered in on my way home from work. I broke my boots over the weekend and need a new pair. Once I used to look at shoes in windows and wonder why anyone would pay that much for something that no one else would notice... these days I am now a mere rung above true fetishism. You really can tell a lot about someone by their shoes, and I love how pretty they are. Having a comfortable Size 6-6.5 foot and small ankles finding shoes is never really an issue for me, and I'm limited only by finances. The entry price of Sex and the City was worth it for the shoes alone. I tried on boots for an hour today and if it wasn't for the revolting service in Myer would have a new pair of 3" stiletto heeled new boots in my cupboard.

To go with the shoes I love hosiery. Hate pantyhose because anything that has the word "gusset" on the packaging immediately turns me off, but stockings are my purchase du jour. I have a specific *thing* for fishnets and today found some fantastic ones that have the suspenders on the stockings instead of requiring a belt. While I quite like wearing a suspender belt (not quite as much as LH likes me wearing it), this is clever because I can wear them with anything. I also found seamed stockings today which makes me want to wear a 1940s pencil skirt and courtshoes just to show off the stockings. I am that superficial.

Being poor makes it really easy to not be materialistic though, because, when it comes down to it, if you have no money to spend, then it's bloody hard to fritter it away. But being skint has never really been a huge barrier for me because I have a rodent like ability to stash bits and pieces away so that I never really feel like I have to go without.

Once upon a time I used to spend almost all of this carefully hoarded money on music. Purchases were very very carefully selected, weighing up how much alcohol or pieces of clothing they could be substituted for against how much I would love them. Mostly they were treasured and classic CDs that I still listen to now, but the occasional spontaneous purchase for significant reasons (quit my job, broke up with boyfriend etc) yielded some interesting compilations that in many cases should have stayed with the job/boyfriend.

This afternoon after the frustration that was dealing with Myer I happened to be avoiding the queue (out the door!! wtf?) outside the new Krispy Kreme when I got distracted by the music playing in the store next to me. Looking up I realised it was Rockinghorse - a store that I used to love with unhealthy passion. I went in for old time's sake and was immediately flashed back 8 years or so when I first rocked in. The absolute dearth of Britney Spears posters and Australian Idol crap means you can actually breathe. The music on the walls contains the classic sounds of Deep Purple, Pantera and the Doors. You won't find Guy Sebastian or a boyband inside. You will find obscure alternative artists and a huge collection of vinyl.

Have I mentioned how much I love vinyl? That crackliness when you move the stylus down over the disc just sends shivers up my spine (the good kind). I nearly bought two Radiohead records (neither my favourite) simply because they had them on vinyl. It took a randomly found Days of the New album and the Foo Fighters Skin and Bones in the second hand pile for me to actually concede that I couldn't buy everything I wanted. I also had a massive sense of deja vu as I flashed back to a time where my sole ambition in life was to win one of the competitions that allowed you to win your height in CDs. At 170cm tall there was a lot of vetoing to fit in all the CDs that I wanted.

So now I'm home listening and falling in love with Travis Meeks - nothing does it for me like a tortured artist with an incredible voice, with fishnetted feet and a new ambition. I want to buy new music every month. A new CD to hold and covet with shiny inserts to pull out and read until the heat of my fingers warps the pages... I'd still kill for a pair of blue satin Manolos but I'm back in lust with my first true love.

PS apologies for the all over the place ness of this whole post, I'm feeling scatty, and not in the mood to edit (ha! as if I ever do).

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