I've had a love/hate relationship with these Balenciaga booties since they first came down the runway... At first I thought "hideous generalus!", but they grew on me after a few months, and now I'm at the point where I sketch little Balenciaga hooves next to my notes in class, and dream of what trips to the grocery store would be like if I had 5 inches of solid Ghesquière beneath me... The fact that these boots would cost more than one month's rent in Paris (and are therefore ludicrously unattainable) only fuels the fantasy fire, so it is at times like this when a man's brutal honesty can be refreshing:
"Let me be completely honest here, those shoes, when not placed on a woman’s foot, are structurally and aesthetically sexy (maybe it’s the S&M and not the H&M in me). But when said shoe is placed on an actual foot, that woman begins to resemble a goat. A female goat, yes, but a goat none-the-less"
Wrong perhaps, but refreshing.
See, a random fact that I didn't include in the "sixes" post is that we used to have a goat farm. I loved our goats very much but don't want to look like one. I don't really want to look like Mary-Kate Olsen either (this would actually be impossible so I'm more worried about the goat bit) however these boots have me in high smit, and I am interested in your verdict...