Why DSW Shoes Makes Me Mental - Part I

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I hauled myself to Greensboro today for a bit of shoe shopping. Long time readers of this blog are familiar with my feelings about shopping, namely that I loathe it. Still, I couldn't put it off any longer. I needed--not wanted, not craved, but really truly needed--black flats. 

My options were to spend my time wandering in and out of small boutiques in the hopes of finding something fashionable and affordable, or taking the shot-in-the-ass approach known as shopping at DSW Shoe Warehouse.

The fact that the word "warehouse" is part of the name should tell you something. Aisle upon aisle upon aisle upon AISLE of nothing but shoes. Standing at the front door looking in was enough to make my eyes bleed. Still, I'm a warrior so I forged ahead. 

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The Eternal, Never-Ending, Repetitive Search for the Perfect Black Flats

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I need a pair of black flats.

That statement is enough to send me into a tailspin of almost non-recoverable depression.

I hate shopping. I especially hate shoe shopping. And I especially especially hate shopping for black flats which are like the little black dress in that the right pair is supposed to carry you through any occasion, except I keep getting it wrong. (Hence, the hate.)

I currently own 3 pairs of black flats. One is an el-cheapo pair I convinced myself could pass for a higher end shoe but which scream out "Payless shoe sale! Payless shoe sale!" with each cheap pleather step. 

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