The Wall Street Journal, for some inscrutable reason, was featuring this bizarre sandal by Chanel in a piece about “The New Bohemians,” whoever they may be. It’s not very pretty, but it compensates by being fiendishly complicated: I suppose it’s theoretically possible to design a shoe that would take longer to put on than these do, and, as I’ve noted before, I yield to no one in my fondness for strappy sandals but too much of a good thing too often yields a thing less good. And if you ask me, the only thing worse than a thing less good is a thing less good that costs something like $2,175. (Okay, it’s made out of lambskin fercrissake, but face it: at this stage of advanced fugliness, you start to feel a lot more sympathy for the poor underaged ungulate who gave his life for no discernible benefit.)
Fausta, with the tango in her soul and the legs to die for, looked at these, and what she remembered was not the classic hippie-chick vibe that’s supposedly being celebrated by those WSJ goobers, but something, um, entirely different.