That's Not Even Yo Style

i'm torn between my embarrassment and pride in the fact that i can recite every syllable of various sex and the city episodes. one in particular, finds carrie and samantha strutting down madison avenue discussing the casual topic of their respective abortions when jones is struck by her lust for the hermes birkin bag. bradshaw is perplexed, "really? that's not even yo style". 

lately, i've found myself in the midst of my own catrall conundrum, dreaming of pieces that aren't necessarily in line with my personal esthetic. in part, i blame my new downtown address full of countless hip and trendy individuals for my sudden inclination to branch out. usually my lust evaporates over time, when i remind myself i lack certain qualities to pull off said item. all the beautiful things, like an acne shelling jacket, just fantasies of a life i'll never lead...

but there's one item (well, technically two) that i cannot shake from my mind. like a 90's pop song stuck in your head, visions of golden goose sneakers are continuously passing through my brain on a loop.  i want them, i need them, i've got to have them. is it slightly irrational to spend $500 on a pair of sneakers, perhaps. are they way too cool for me, most certainly. but i just don't care.