Fashion Moments… unforgettable style stories.
Some of you have already heard this story, since I have mentioned it in my blog and told it to almost everyone I have ever met that has complimented me on the aforementioned shoes…but I thought I’d write it up properly. It is a story about a woman on a mission, to get a great pair of shoes.
Once upon a time I saw a pair of black patent studded shoes in an issue of UK Vogue. This was before THE Rodarte Louboutin shoes, and around the time where studs were still a rarity on fashion accessories. Not everyone was doing them, quite yet. These shoes were insane, a peep toe shoe with giant 2 inch studs coming out in all directions. They were priced at 350 pounds, and for some reason I thought they were Versace. I had a feeling they were press shoes, but I wanted them anyway, even the diluted, commercial version. So the mission began.
I went to the Versace store on Sloane street. The guys in there were ASSHOLES. I told them about the shoe, and they told me “Three hundred and fifty pounds? We don’t usually sell pumps THAT cheap. You must be mistaken.” I then explained that the magazines don’t always have the correct price listed, but they weren’t interested. I stormed off.
A few weeks later I was having drinks with some friends, and I met someone from Kurt Geiger, the company responsible for importing most luxury shoe brands into the UK. He told me that the shoes were Dolce & Gabbana, and that my best bet was to get them at Harrods’s since Harrods often got the most interesting shoes, sometimes even better than the brand’s own store. I called the Harrods‘s shoe department the next day and befriended the guy working in the Dolce & Gabbana concession. He told me deliveries arrived on Wednesday mornings, and that I should try calling on a Wednesday. I called every Wednesday for the next three weeks, and to my disappointment, the shoes never came in.
I had given up by then, but one day popped my head into the Dolce & Gabbana store on Sloane Street, in the hopes of a miracle. The sales assistant told me the shoes weren’t Dolce & Gabbana, they were D&G, and they had already been in store for a few weeks. Panicked, I got the number of the nearest D&G store from him, and called them RIGHT AWAY.
The sales assistant at the D&G store told me that they had arrived a few weeks ago, and there were only a few shoes left in gold and silver. I told him I wanted them in black, with silver studs, and he said there might be a 36 or 37 in gold (I was a 40.) He told me to hold on. Then he came back… and said the best six words I have ever heard in my life: “I think it’s your lucky day.”
Someone had returned a pair of the black patent shoes in a size 40 the day before, and they hadn’t put them back into stock. He said he could hold them for me, but not for too long. I told him I’d be there in 10 minutes. I hopped in a taxi, went to the store, and tried on the shoes. They were a diluted, commercial version of the catwalk shoe, but still amazing. They fit like a glove. My sales assistant, who was now, in my mind, the greatest person in the entire world, told me they looked great. They did. I bought them, at the bargain price of 270 pounds, almost 100 pounds cheaper than I had planned (see, the magazines don’t always have the right price!) I hugged them on the way home, in fear someone would rip them out of my hands (seriously. I am sad. I know.)
A few months later I walked by the D&G store, and I saw the sales guy who had sold me my shoes. He smiled at me, like he would with anyone, because it is good customer service. I smiled back and silently thanked him for my blessed shoes. I was with my friend Nora at the time, who said “Don’t tell me that’s the guy that sold you those studded shoes.” My face had given it away, I was probably staring at him dreamily or something. She said “You’re ridiculous.”