Ped O'File

I would surely kill for these shoes. I have a pair of boots from the same designer, Rocco P. The boots are black with a pointed toe, yet the tip top is square. They'recooler than Elvis. When I wear them, I am 90% sure I'll be complimented.

These shoes would be a fabulous addition to the family. I've always wanted a slick brown oxford. They're kinda pricey, though. (And dykey, but I don't care.) So I have decided to wait, an entirely new concept for The Shan. I'm a faster, now, all at once and right away type of gal. But these shoes make me want to be a better woman. And so I will wait until my bonus comes through, and when that sucker hits, these puppies are mine. M-I-N-E. Mine.

I wrote the above last Thursday. And 5 days later, I have two new pairs of shoes. Neither of which are the pair I spoke of last week. Clearly, I have a severe shoe addiction. Honestly, I cannot help myself. I cannot stop at just one. It's beyond my earthly control. I am powerless over shoes and my life is unmanageable. But I am a connoisseur, not your average, indicriminate consumer. I only buy the best. You will not find a pair of Steve Madden or Nine West shit on my shoe rack. I feel dirty if I settle for Kennth Cole.

So anyway, my cousin was in town this weekend, and a visitor cannot leave New York City w/out experiencing 3 things: an egg cream, a Broadway show and shopping, shopping, shopping. (Museums? Whatever. That's why living rooms have coffee tables. And Central Park? They have grass and trees everywhere else in the world. Why trek uptown to suffer the stink of horse shit and risk death by roller-blader?) I got her an egg cream from Eisenberg's Sandwhich Shop on 5th Ave. between 22nd & 23rd, the oldest, smallest and most authentic Jewish diner around. Katz's can eat Eisenberg's shit. We got tickets to 'Doubt,' John Patrick Shanley's Pulitzer, Drama Desk and Tony Award winning play about a molestation charge at a Catholic school. (I cannot say enough wonderful things about the show. It's also a love story to every nun who ever laid down the law. They get a raw deal more often than not, but as Shanley writes in the Playbill, "Who among us has given more?") Completing the Holy NYC Tourist Trilogy A Le Shan, we shopped our asses off. Unfortunately, she was looking for a pair of boots and that was the equivalent of taking me on a tour of the Guinness brewery for 3 days. I broke down twice; once at Otto Toostie Plohound and once at (no irony lost here) Shoemania.

I owe my readers pictures of the Rocce P black boots. You must feel their magnetism. I also owe you a shot of the new boots from Otto. To follow, I promise. But here are the beauties I picked up at Shoemania. Technically, tho, they picked me up. I didn't stand a chance.

A gaybian can never have too many sneaks and kelly green is my favorite color. You'd have done the same thing--fork over your tired and poor Visa.