Update: I heart Pierre Hardy

I still love Pierre Hardy, although his current collection doesn't touch me in the same way that past collections have. However, here is a story that will no doubt tear at your most resistant heartstrings.

This past spring, I somehow acquired my first pair of Pierre Hardy shoes (yes, I'm talking about the beauties you see in the picture). They went so perfectly with my dress that I knew it could only have been a match made in heaven. I had bought the outfit for a wedding I would be attending with my boyfriend in New York.

As I slipped on my deep blue dress and zipped up my gorgeous shoes the night of the wedding, I felt fantastic. As I waited for the elevator and made my way to the lobby, I was beginning to feel the slightest bit off kilter. During hors d'oeuvres following the ceremony, my discomfort was growing exponentially by the minute but the compliments I was getting (many from allegedly fashion-savvy men) still left me predominately walking on air.

Then came the dancing. Oh, the dancing. Such discomfort I cannot even describe. The first slow song came on and I attempted to dance with Jared but I couldn't even sway from side to side in any organized fashion. I think he was baffled by my rhythmic disabilities and we had to give up prematurely. Oh, the shame.

But I was determined not to remove my shoes. I knew that the second I did I was admitting defeat, and I was not about to be dominated by a very costly pair of shoes. Beautiful shoes. I wore them all night and somehow found a means of dancing along the path of least awkwardness. I twisted and shouted; I jumped; I even brought my own unstable brand of sexy back.

Still, I've never felt better taking off a pair of shoes at the end of the night. It's even possible that I freed my feet from their bondage in the hallway leading to our hotel room.

But now I'm not sure what to think. While I prefaced this as a heartbreaking tale, I realize now that it is more triumphant than anything else. I made it through the night. I dominated the shoes. And while the tragedy might lie in my fear of ever donning them again (sit-down occasions excluded), I managed to find a middle ground with the Hardys. I think Pierre would be proud.