L, a longtime friend of hers and fellow, very sensible could-survive-(and has)-with-no-supplies-in-remote-African-village type person is sitting cross legged on my bed reading the newspaper. L glances up as Snejana Onopka comes down the runway, tanned to the hilt and wearing her trademark Eastern European sullen expression as she struts along in a short dress and ludicrous (but fabulously) high heels.
L (after a moment's consideration): Some of these women- and I don’t know if it’s them or the way they are taught to walk- but there is something seriously wrong with their feet.
I look up curiously to see what she means. My Snejana? Something wrong with her feet? Such blasphemy! (She is just reaching the end of the runway now and looks quite alright to me).
My mother starts to laugh as Snejana abruptly swivels on one heel, and continues her ferocious strut in the opposite direction, each leg crossing waaaay over the other one, creating that idealized X shape as she walks.
L (smiling slightly, but continuing on in her no-bullshit tone): I'm not kidding- they have the good sense not to show them [the feet] on the TV too much, but there is something radically wrong with the way they are walking.
My mother laughs harder.
L: I mean, what is THAT? (Snejana has finished now and does the kind of haughty little pre-exit twirl that only severely malnourished 6 ft femmes can pull off whilst tripping along on 5 inchers- Gemma enters in her wake, looking identical to the Snej, and repeats the routine)
By this point, we are all rolling around laughing; my mom and her friend, because they think the business of strutting down a runway wearing mini skyscrapers is the funniest thing since Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and me, because high fashion can indeed seem very silly when viewed from a practical perspective.
I'm only glad we aren't watching footage of Jessica Stam's infamous spill at Chloe. That would truly give these two midwives something to tease me about while I teeter around on my new noir and rouge peeptoes.