This is why we have girlfriends, to remind us of the important things in life:
Me: I need shoes.
WAF: You don’t need shoes.
Me: Shut up. I need shoes.
WAF: No you don’t. You may need clothes, underwear, tampons, or even birth control pills, but not. shoes.
Me: No. I don’t need any of those things. I am perfectly happy naked, underwear-less, and tampon-less. And I definitely don’t need birth control pills, because I’m not sexually active. But, I need shoes.
WAF: Oh yeah, you’re still practicing that thing called “abstinence.” How’s that working out for you?
Me: Fine. It’s working out fine. I like it.
WAF: That’s just because you don’t know what it’s like any other way. [Pause] Omg! I got my period!!! I think!
Me: Congratulations? Between being constantly worried that I might be pregnant and knowing for sure that I’m not, I choose the latter.
WAF: If you go around naked wearing only hot shoes, I’m pretty sure that won’t last long.
Me: Good point. I’ll buy some ugly shoes to balance it out then.

—

I had a job interview today, and as soon as the interview was over, I went shopping.
I didn’t mean to do it of course, but the Fairweather beside it was having a sale! I just had to have a little peek. Besides, I made a pretty good impression during the interview - surely, she was going to give me the job, right? Of course.
So I went into Fairweather looking for a dress to wear this weekend for SassyGirl in the City Part 2. Actually, I already have a dress that I’ve decided to wear this weekend, but I had to keep an open mind. What if there was a better dress out there, just waiting for me to take it home with me? One musn’t be prejudiced about these things after all.
I didn’t find anything (Fairweather’s clothes were never good enough for me anyways, I sniff), but as I was walking out of the store, I picked up a skirt off the sale rack and paid for it. What? I deserve a little indulgence, it’s going to be my birthday soon! Besides, I’m sure I got that job.
As I was walking towards the bus stop, I noticed a small wine store. I don’t have any more wine in my apartment, I suddenly recalled, and promptly walked in and bought a bottle of 2006 Muscat. How could I call myself a city girl without a constant stash of alcohol at home?
Then I checked the bus schedule and realized I still had another half hour. I’ll just go into one more store, I thought. So I walked into another clothing store, wine bottle in hand and everything. I decided I would just find a pair of shoes to match the dress I had at home. I didn’t see any shoes that matched the dress, but I did find a ridiculously cute pair of black stilettos. Come on, black is sexy, timeless, and functional! Who didn’t need a good pair of black stilettos, right? Then I noticed a couple colourful tops and dresses on the wall and decided to try them on, too.
Two hours later, I had both salesladies at my beck and call and had tried on almost every top and dress the store owned. There were at least twenty discarded items outside my change room when I finally emerged victorious with a stunning strapless dress that was perfect for a night out on the town. It wasn’t on sale, but I could always keep the tag on and return it if I didn’t end up wearing it this weekend right? I congratulated myself on being so shrewd and told the cashier to ring it up. Just then, I noticed a very Victory-Ford-esque dress on the highest rack and had to try it on. So I did. And it was adorable. Even the lady in the change room beside mine said so.
“How much is that?” She asked. I showed her the price tag.
“You have to buy it. It looks like it was made for you.”
“I know right?”
I look like Victory Ford, I thought to myself as I examined my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t think it possible, but I do. I actually look like the fictional fashionista herself!

But I’d already found a dress that looked good on me. When was I going to wear this one? Ah, just buy both, wear one, and return whichever one you don’t end up wearing! My shrewd inner accountant told me. Good thinking, I thought back, as I ran my fingers over the satin bow and smiled into the mirror.
So as the cashier rang up the purchases, I asked her what their return policy was. “You have two weeks for an exchange or store credit. The shoes are final sale.”
Wait, what? Did I just hear her right? I can’t get a refund?
But it was too late. She’d already swiped my credit card, and I was too embarrassed to ask her to put one of the dresses back after she’d helped me for two hours.
Surely, I got that job right? I thought to myself as I walked out of the store with $80 worth of purchases. I mentally calculated how much I’d spent after the interview. At least $120. Clearly, what WAF said did not resonate with me. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, I do need shoes. I only own one pair of stilettos and they’re totally not as cute as these ones. And it’s not like I can just get pretty shoes and without any pretty clothes to go with them, right? I wouldn’t want to romp around naked in stilettos, after all. Besides, even though they weren’t on sale, they weren’t expensive either. Where else am I going to find a dress like that for under $50? Plus, it makes me look like Victory Ford. No, they were worth it. And I can wear the other dress when we go to Montreal! I can’t look like a poor student when I’m partying it up there, of course.
By the time I made it to the bus stop, I was feeling loads better. I must have gotten that job, I thought optimistically. God, or at least the God of Fashion, must have known I got the job and strategically placed those stores there for me to find.
So, God, I hope I got that job.