just let it die already

The transformation period between runway to store-floor naturally entails a stiff delay. It's like the cocooning process between caterpillars to butterflies, although unlike the lepidopteron metaphor, store-floor is usually the caterpillar.

In saying that, Balenciaga really pushed the Roman Republic inspired campaign early on in S/S, and I'll admit, nothing roused me more (in the hetero way, of course) than seeing Jennifer Connelly transform from A Beautiful Mind to a beautiful mannequin.

But it stops there.

My motto is that if they're on clearance at Old Navy, they're clearly old news. No hate to the store, I love me some bargain, but If I can count 12 pairs of vinyl Moses-esque sandals at my front door when my little sister has friends over, it's time to file them under 'potential ironic revival', and put them back in their boxes.

To be fair though, I do understand that a good sole, like a good soul, can be hard to find.

If you're still kicking around in them for comfort, I guess I can't contend. Shit, I'll whip out my Uggs on a bitter winter weekend, if the mood strikes me so, and I'm prett sure no one will see me. But if one more street-style spokesman sites a single pair, I might have to start making nasty anonymous annotations on somebody's comment thread.

And you don't want me to get anonymous.