Aren't they cute? They have a lower heel than I've been looking at, but really I don't have any longer pants that will rule these out. They are supposed to fit true to size and be really comfortable, and there were enough reviews to make that sound legit. I hate it when there are 7,286 reviews and the average is 3.2 stars out of a possible 5, which turns out to mean that half of the reviewers gave it 1 star and wish they could give it 0, want it to die in a fire, and I especially enjoy when they want it to be way better than anyone has a right to expect at that price point. "It can't raise the dead like I thought it would!"
And then, lest you feel confident about passing it up, there are the gushing 5-star reviews that read like the item cures cancer and walks on water and also, the reviewer is the designer's mother or perhaps is being paid by someone. So that makes you unsure. How can the same item inspire such abject hatred and transcendent adoration?
It's a mystery. I just wrote the previous sentences and realized it sounds like I'm talking about a religious belief system. In a way, I suppose I guess I am: the modern religion of Materialism.
Ooooooh, Deep Thoughts with Hairline Fracture.
So I guess I did my duty by sacrificing at the Temple of Online Shopping (motto: Free Shipping Both Ways) and for now I give them 5 stars. (That also really bugs me: people who write a review without reading the book, or wearing the piece, or whatever. Usually they blame the manufacturer for the retailer's mistake instead of contacting customer service, meanwhile skewing the ratings average. Those kinds of people are too stupid to merit my consideration of their rating. It annoys me. If I ever write a book, I shouldn't ever check its reviews on Amazon, is what I'm saying.)
The shoes are in stock at a local store 30 minutes away (we measure distance in minutes if not hours here in Texas, and the speed is assumed to be "like a bat outta hell") so I could theoretically pick up these beauties in 4 hours, but I'm not feeling so great again so it will be at least tomorrow afternoon if not Monday. My husband is once again tyrannically insisting that I get dressed in actual clothes and leave the house to do something unenjoyable like eat a delicious dinner.
I'm thinking I need more ice cream as an incentive. It's a good thing shoes always fit 'cause my pants may not after this weekend.