Shoe Me Now

Yes, a new year is almost upon us, and Savannah weather has finally turned from blanketing us all with hot, dank air that you could literally cut through and spread on a piece of toast (if wasn’t too freakin’ hot to plug in the damn toaster) to gorgeous, breathable fall breezes just crisp enough to sprinkle some cinnamon on and dip into a vat of honey.

5768 is almost over, my sandals have been pushed back to the netherregions of the closet and I am making a booty call for these made-in-Israel Naot boots. They are so gorgeous they leave me speechless with podiatric lust.

No, I cannot afford them. Three hundred dollars for a pair of boots when there are so many other bills to pay is a SHANDA. But I have bargain-hunting skills, yo, passed down to me through four generations of fashion-obsessed misers who never let market price deter them. I will never forget the wisdom passed down from my Bubbe Reggie (may she be resting in peace as well as fabulousness) while shopping with her at Burdine’s department store in Miami: “Honey, we’re Jews. We don’t pay retail.”

What amazing treasures could my foremothers have tracked down had they had access to the wonders of eBay? ‘Cause that’s where I have just found the objects of my desire FOR HALF PRICE. I can hear Bubbe croaking her approval.

Now the shanda is that I can’t wear them to Yom Kippur services ’cause they’re leather.

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