Ever since that unforgettable October when I was 17 and left for Paris I have been in love with Balenciaga. I remember taking an “alone day” and just walking around Paris, feeling its rhythm and pulse, and then, heaven. I found myself standing in front of Balenciaga’s beautiful display window. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, just looking at the beautiful garments, but especially, the shoes! I felt that warm feeling in my stomach going up trough my chest, making my heart beat a little bit faster and warming my cheeks. Like when you are 17 and you just finished algebra, the bell rings, you walk out from your classroom and there is that cute boy smiling at you. Exactly the same feeling, but standing on that Paris street I didn’t have to hurry away or fumble with my books or say something funny, I could just stand there for as long as I wanted, and I did.
I looked at every single piece, every detail on its beautiful surface, on the inside I was fantasizing about wearing it all down the Paris streets, on the outside I was smiling. The doorman had by now noticed me and interrupted my daydreams “Mademoiselle, voulez vous entrer?”. Well I couldn’t possibly enter the store, sure, I was looking really cute with my roughly knitted dark gray dress, beautiful chocolate brown moccasins and an enormous forest green scarf I almost drowned in (yes I remember it all), but to walk in to Balenciaga and pretend that I will spend all my money on a pair of shoes, or a bag or a anything, I couldn’t possibly. “No, merci monsieur, je regarde seulement” I replied smiling politely. “Peut-être une autre fois!” he said in a way like he knew exactly what I was daydreaming about. Yes, maybe another time I thought to myself.
So I promised myself that one day I will have a Balenciaga shoe. I will walk in there, top to toe gorgeous of course, and buy myself one of those beauties. Now the problem is in my 17 year old girl fantasy I was in Paris, and not in London. Last year when I was in London I saw the most gorgeous Balenciaga shoe, tried them on, HALLELUJAH, was about to buy them when two small “mini-mes” jumped up to each shoulder. The red and devilish and eager one saying “buy them, buy them”, the white and nostalgic one saying “it has to be in the Paris store”. And so I didn’t buy them. I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe it’s because I really wanted to buy them in that certain store in Paris, or maybe I don’t want to buy them at all? Maybe that memory would fade away of that 17 year old dreamer and I will no longer remember the colour of my knitted dress or the smell of my scarf? On the other hand, who cares about how my scarf smelled 7 years ago when I want these:
By Zorana Micic
Tags: Balenciaga, london, Paris, shoes, shopping