I decided to write Santa a letter this year. Given the current state of the economy, my wardrobe needed a bit of goodwill and I wasn’t averse to tapping up the North Pole for the favour.
Granted, the last time I contacted Mr. Claus for some swag, I was a mere eight years old; so I thought it time to get reacquainted.
“Dear Santa. It’s Annmarie here. Remember me? I was that little girl who asked you for a pair of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans back in the 80s. Well, guess what? I’m back and we’ve got some catching up to do!”
Cognizant of his busy schedule, I got straight down to business. “I want shoes,” I demanded. My four year old niece used a similar ‘blitzkreig’ ploy on the jolly old soul last year with positive results.
“Specifically,” I continued “I’d like the YSL Mohawk heels that have sold out on Net-a-Porter, those gold Dries Van Noten shoes from Smock which I can’t afford and a pair of antelope skin knee-high Mukluks that say ‘streamlined yet waterproof’....your pick.”
Not wishing to seem too greedy, I concluded the missive graciously, “Thanks again. You’re a peach!” remembering to include all updated contact details.
Let’s face it. It’s a bit rich that the pre-tweens do so well out of the bearded benefactor. Personally, I think Santa has an untapped market in the fashion community. In fact, we’re not much different to the under 10s. Our business is based on wanting what we can’t have and whining until we get it.
A Nintendo DS? I’ll see you and raise you a Hermes ‘So Black’ Kelly bag kiddo! As for wide-eyed belief, we all live in hope that one day a careless PR girl will mistakenly post us a Chanel Haute Couture ticket; front row beside Anna Wintour and a restraining order away from Naomi Campbell. And if an H&M designer collaboration has taught us anything, it’s how to cue from 6am in the freezing cold for a lesser-spotted god.
With my wish list so tightly edited, the probability factor looks high. All I need is a stamp - and a redirect address to Richard Branson. It’s not that I don’t believe; I’m just hedging my bets on the number of kind bearded businessmen in this world. When it comes to shoes, I don’t take chances.
