“The ‘Dovima,’ an 11cm, spike-heeled confection of gilded silk mesh and jewels, is embellished with a pair of rose pink-dyed, taxidermy birds with gold and crystal heads.” Sound good so far? How about this: They incorporate “semi-precious stones, jet, satin ribbons, silk chiffon, diamanté and crocodile skin fashioned into dainty rosettes.”
These shoes by Bruno Frisoni for Roger Vivier are hand made and cost $43,000. A little pricey but wait! The shoes “can be inserted into and buckled onto matching crocodile or snakeskin protective ‘platforms,’ based on the ‘pattens’ of the Middle Ages. They add height and save the expensive, fragile works-of-art for the feet from actually making contact with the pavement.”
Now that I’ve seen these shoes, nothing else will ever be good enough. It’s the fucking birds that get me.
Around 30 years ago, I was out with my sister, waiting for a table at our neighborhood cafe. A tall man in front of us was wearing white shoes that he’d obviously spray painted. On each toe cap was affixed a little doll head. My sister and I exchanged a look, and I said to the guy, “Nice shoes.” He smiled graciously and said, “I call them ‘Babies in the Snow.”
I’ve never forgotton about Babies in the Snow. I think I’ll call the Dovima “Dead Birds With Bling.”