“That sounds right,” she admits. Without missing a beat, she flashes me a grin. “Now, put your books away and grab your purse. We have shopping to do!”
One incredible gown later, I am ready for homecoming. Or, I think I am, until we drop off half of our girl gang and then Caroline tells the driver to take us to the mall.
“I thought you were taking me home,” I tell her.
Sipping on her smoothie straw, she shakes her head. “Just taking them home. We’ve gotta get you some shoes to go with that dress.”
“We don’t have to go to the mall for shoes,” I reason. “I’m sure we could find something suitable at the thrift store. They have tons of shoes.”
Judging by the alarmed widening of her eyes, I get the idea Caroline has never once stepped foot inside of a thrift store. “We’re going to the mall,” she states.
Depending on how far you want to drive, there are several malls we could go to, but Caroline opts for the closest—and the cutest, in my opinion. It’s the same shopping center that houses the bookstore I work at, so I’m very familiar with the place, I just don’t make much time to shop there. It’s a cute shopping center with cute little outdoor areas for the kids and tons of places to shop if you have money to spend. Today we do, and shoe shopping is not my area of expertise, so I let Caroline take the lead.
“Oh, my God, try these. They’re so pretty,” she says, handing me a pair of black mules with an asymmetrical strap.
“Um, I’m no style expert, admittedly, but… these are black.”
She blinks at me. “What’s wrong with black?”
“Well, nothing. It’s just that my dress is gold. Wouldn’t this clash?”
Sudden comprehension lands, but she waves me off. “Oh, honey, these aren’t for homecoming. These are for New York. Carter said you need some new things for the trip. These don’t look super comfortable, but if you’re not used to walking in heels, here’s a tip. Wear comfortable shoes for walking if you won’t be talking a cab, but bring a big purse. Put your heels in your purse, then change into them right before you get to wherever it is you’re going. Saves your feet, but you still get to wear the pretty shoes.” Waving her hand at the shoes, as if to urge them closer, she says, “Go ahead, try them on.”
I push back the thin white tissue around the shoe and pull it out of the box, eyeing up the heel. “These look high.”
“They are, hence the advice. They’re so cute though, imagine all the outfits they would go with.”
While I wrestle with this heel, she goes back to the shoes to browse some more. I no more than get this one on the ground and she comes over with a big smile and another pair of heels.
“These,” she enthuses, holding them out like an offering. “I don’t even care if these are uncomfortable, we’re buying these. Try them on anyway,” she orders.
These shoes are much bolder than I would wear. A black base with fire engine red pointy toes, I can see them on her, but I think they might be a little much for me. “I don’t know where I would wear these,” I tell her.
“I do,” she says, firmly. “You’re getting them. They’re perfect for something Carter has planned for you that I can’t tell you about. Just trust me. Those shoes say all the right things. You’ll thank me later.” Already onto the next thing, she murmurs, “Now to find you an outfit,” and wanders off, presumably to find an outfit.
We end up leaving with 3 pairs of shoes for New York and a pair of apparently boring nude strappy sandals that I picked out myself. Once Caroline got distracted buying my wardrobe for New York, she completely forgot about the homecoming shoes and left me to fend for myself. I was more interested in the comfort of the shoes I would be dancing in all night—especially since my gown is floor-length, and no one will even see the damn things—than the look of them, so I picked out a pair of basic-looking shoes that didn’t kill my feet when I walked around in them.
Meanwhile, Caroline picked out some dressy-casual clothes, a long belted coat for the cold weather, and a big white handbag to smuggle my pretty shoes in for the 90% of the time when I prefer comfort over elegance. It’s definitely someone else’s wardrobe, but someone who dresses very fashionably, so I can’t complain. It’s crazy to think about going to New York, and even crazier that I haven’t even asked my mom if I could go yet. It was one of those pipe dreams that didn’t seem like it would ever happen, but now that I have a wardrobe for the trip, I decide it’s probably time to ask.