Ten days ago, after showing you a shoe that inspired bile to seep from the cozy cove of my liver and invade my pancreas, I tossed out a teaser about one that almost made me spontaneously combust. “NEXT UP,” I said, with no indication as to when that might be. So, because I don’t want to keep you on the edge of your seat any longer than is absolutely necessary for me to feel completely in control, I am sharing the shoe RIGHT NOW.
They also come in “black antique gator patent”,
but that’s not even a fraction as fabulous as the pewter mirror metallic!
Click for details!
The only qualm I have with the description — other than the word “comfy”, which I think was put on this earth to make me wretch in the same way “sammich” does is that it says the footbed “feels like a dream.” I suppose I can’t blame the good people at Zappos for not knowing that my dreams mainly consist of bloody explosions of body parts, can I? But hey, even if these droolers caused my own body parts to explode, bloodily or otherwise, I’d still give them a go. And then spontaneously combust, as aforesaid.