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I went to the local Payless shoe store during lunch yesterday to buy men's sneakers.
If you are not familiar with the layout of a Payless store, in this neck of the woods the men's shoes occupy one wall of the store and the rack across the aisle from the men's wall of shoes contains the largest size women's shoes (up to size 13). Either way, that is my aisle.
So, I am in the middle of the aisle perusing the sneakers and trying on the ones that look like they have potential to make my feet happy.
I am the only customer in the store, when in walks a middle-aged gent, who proceeds down my aisle. He briefly glances at some shoes on the men's wall and then continues down to the end of the aisle and around the corner to parts unknown.
I continue to pull paper padding out of sneakers and try them on my left foot, which is my fit testing foot. (As they say, "What's good for the left foot is good for the right foot.")
A minute or two later, the gent appears at the head of the aisle, but hesitates walking down the aisle when he sees me still at it.
Suddenly, my transgender radar unit started vibrating and I had to reach into my purse to shut it off as the gent quickly exited the store.
True story (mostly).
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Femulating during The Great Depression.
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Wearing Moschino (top), Diane von Furstenberg (shorts),
Stuart Weitzman (shoes) and Tory Burch (bag).
