THE DAY SEX AND THE CITY DIED. (OH ALRIGHT. FOR ME. MAYBE ONLY FOR ME. BUT STILL)

by hurricanevanessa on May 26, 2010

Close your eyes.

Visualise what you’d imagine a typical pair of Sex and the City shoes to look like.

What do you see?

A flash of a red sole?

Something strappy, luxurious and elegant?

An artwork for feet?

Something labeled Manolo something or Something Choo, perhaps?

Something sexy and on-trend?

All of the above?

I bet you didn’t visualise ….

these:

Unforgivable ugliness.

Unforgivable ugliness.

As the only things I ever liked in the entire series + film, were the beautiful and inspiring bags and shoes, discovering these fugly ballet flats had a cathartic effect on me.

All the greed and opportunism of the immorality of the show, writ large in the shameless licensing deal the producers have done to produce these horrors.

Officially. Under the Sex and the City Brand.

Patricia Field must have popped a vein.

Now, finally nothing at all to love.

They’re by Redfoot revolution, if you must know.

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