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Fancy Parties in Las Vegas Require Fancy Shoes…and I am ALL ABOUT the Fancy Shoes

In recent months I have had the delight to experience a very new-and-fantastic phenomenon, at least for me: bank account balances that regularly exhibit three, sometimes four digits before the decimal.  People, this hasn’t happened for a good, long time.  I had forgotten what it feels like to be able to just go buy something because you feel like it.  I’m not talking about a new flat-screen TV or a Caribbean vacation, I’m talking about hairspray or fig newtons; non-essentials that make your life just a little bit better.  (And I don’t want to hear anyone dissing on my fig newtons, I love them and that’s all there is to it.)  In the last month I have lovingly and ceremoniously purchased four pairs of fantastic heels.  Goodness, I forgot the pure bliss that comes from seeking and finding a perfect pair of heels.  (I haven’t had a good shoe-spree for at least a year.  It was time.  Don’t judge.)  I purchased my first pair of dressy winter boots (dark, chocolate brown knee boots with a roundy-pointy toe, and a cone heel just a smidge over 3 inches.  I love them!), and then I fell hard and fast for the following:

Grapey-purple suede! With studs! And a black-and-gray snakeskin platform!  And sexy cut-outs!  Don’t these just scream “Take me to a big fancy party in Las Vegas!”

That’s what I heard, and that’s exactly what I did.

Bulldog McGunsmoke knows People.  And People can make things happen.  Things like getting a handful of tickets to a super-exclusive party sponsored at a Big Fancy hotel in Las Vegas.  We’re talking prime rib and white linen napkins and a thousand-or-so men in dark suits gawking at the 50-or-so women in fancy shoes.  And dresses!  We wore dresses! Goodness, it’s not one of those Vegas parties where the women only wear fancy shoes and some sparkle, Bulldog’s People aren’t those kind of people.  Gracious.  I’m glad that little situation was cleared up–I mean, yes, the shoes are sexy, suede, studded and crazy-high–clocking in at 5.75″, my highest pair yet–but I’m not the type to wear them out and about without a proper outfit.  In this case, a sleek, black cocktail dress, accessorized by a terribly good-looking man in a suit.

In full disclosure, I don’t think Big Fancy Vegas Parties every weekend are really my thing.  The shoes are divine, but the combination of spending five hours in brand spankin’ new, crazy-high heels on slick marble tile with a half-mile jaunt through the casino’s left me with my very first case of Morning After Sore Feet.  Whatever.  It was totally worth it.  Bulldog’s industry (that would be the ass-kickin’ industry) had their annual trade show in Vegas last weekend, and one of the premier manufacturer’s of ass kickery equipment hosts this fancy, exclusive party.  It was the event that everyone at the trade show wanted to attend, and while I may not have appreciated the exclusivity (not being in the ass-kickin’ industry), I loved walking in on Bulldog’s arm, loved watching all the people mingle and chat and dance (goodness–the people-watching was AWESOME!), loved the looks of admiration directed towards my feet and my date, loved the dancing, the band, the bar of mini-desserts.  I loved it all.

Apparently this is some famous actor-guy, R. Lee Emery, famous for the drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket…which I have seen, but did not recall his character.  He has also been in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie, X-Men: The Last Stand, and has voiced the Army Guy in about a dozen different cartoons (like Toy Story 1-3).  Bulldog told me to tell you to alert your male significant other (or yourself, if you happen to be male) that I had met him and they would be impressed.  Whatever.

Lookit, it’s just like Prom!

The next day while Bulldog went back to the trade show, I went shopping.

Vegas. Shopping.  Goodness, it is a sight to behold!  Now, I’ve done my fair share of shoppery in Vegas; it’s the closest city to Salt Lake with a proper retail scene.  Things you Big City-ites take for granted–H&M, Steve Madden, Sephora–us Salt Lakers can only dream about.  And after a few months the dreaming turns into a six-hour road trip, a day or two in Vegas spent primarily at the shops, and then all is right in the world again.

Last Friday was one of those days that makes all right in the world.  A full day of shopping without having to answer to a man.  I gave myself a budget, and I very nearly stuck to it.  (I went over by about $15 dollars, I consider this acceptable.)  I picked up several lovelies; a black cocktail dress that fits me perfectly (and on a fantastic sale), a mod-ish trench coat, a blue and white stripey button-up to pair with a bright orange belt, a hat–my first hat purchase ever–a couple of tops, two pairs of corduroy pants that fit me perfectly and two more pairs of fantastic shoes.  One to be worn when the weather thaws a bit, and one to be worn to my next Fancy Party (quite possibly with the new black dress, actually).

These are so summery, and while they may appear to be pale-ish, pink-ish white to you, and only to be worn after Memorial Day; they are in-fact, the exact shade of my pale-ish, pink-ish white legs and will be worn as soon as the threat of tootsie frostbite dissapates.  My legs go forever in these, and I still can’t get over the flower.  Love!

And these beauties?  Oh my goodness, I couldn’t say no–and they are the reason I went “over” my budget.  Worth it?  Absolutely.  Do you see the fuschia-satin?  The ruffles?  The peep-toe and the sexy heel?  I’ll skip Starbux for a month to wear these for one evening.  They are perfect.

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