Be Fashionable at own Peril

BE FASHIONABLE AT OWN PERIL

RECENTLY I HAVE BEEN HIT BY THE FASHIONISTA BUG. I found myself suddenly having the urge to read fashion columns and before I knew it I had started to believe some of the stuff they write.

The one that really caught my eye was an interview with a local model who said and I quote, “It is a shame for any woman not to have a pair of 4" stilettos”.

This came as a big surprise to me because all my life, I have assumed that stilettos were another name for leggings (or trouser stockings) and 4" was kind of bizarre to me. So I looked up the word in the dictionary and my first inclination was to take rat poison.

I have used my ‘meaning’ for stilettos with people I would have liked to impress and all this time making a fool of myself. I have also used the word on my friends and nobody corrected me. Either I have overly diplomatic friends or they know nothing about fashion or they don’t have dictionaries. My saving grace probably has been that they too are worn on the legs.

So I went ahead and bought myself a pair of yellow stilettos and kept it for the organization’s end of year party.

As many stiletto owners will tell you, lifts do not appreciate stilettos and so they break down as soon as they get you to your destination – mostly on double digit floors, ensuring that finding your way down is not effortless in the ‘must haves’.

The lift broke down on me during the party and I needed a sixth sense to get to ground floor with my toes in ten pieces or else they would be puréed when I got down.

My mind worked fast that day, which it rarely does. I feigned a sprain on my leg and Kimwaki (translates into bonfire), a colleague of mine helped me down the stairs 18 floors on his back holding my pair of yellow stilettos in his hands. I had forgotten the sprain by the time we got to ground floor and he found out that I had duped him. He is still mad at me.

He has attempted his revenge on me twice on the streets by trying to set me on fire with a cigarette in the name of a hug. Fortunately the city council has banned cigarette smoking in public places and he is yet to figure out another way of teaching me a lesson.

Our IT geek Wuod Nam (son of the lake) has promised to bail me out. He has warned Kimwaki that if he does not give up his obsession of setting me on fire, he is going to reconstruct one of his pictures from a fully dressed executive to one in boxer shorts and sell it as a front page photograph to major newspapers. He has already removed his blazer and shirt on the computer. I suggested that he punches holes into the boxer shorts.

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