I am obscenely rich, so of course, I have a lot of shoes. Like, a lot of shoes. I have a whole guest house just to hold all my velour Birkenstocks. But isn’t that point? If you aren’t buying out Nordstrom’s entire fall boot collection in a single sitting, why even have money? Technically, I have a shoe for every occasion. Picking up the dry cleaning, strolling through my favorite decoupage store, hosting an intervention for that one friend who won’t stop talking about The Haunting of Hill House. There’s no situation that I’m not acutely prepared for in the most fashionable manner possible.
Here’s the thing: Not only am I crazy, stupid rich, I am also quite popular and loved. Obviously, I am very in-demand in my social and career circles. I simply do not have the time to switch out my footwear to suit wherever my very busy days take me. That’s why versatility is so important when it comes to shoes. I need something that will easily transition from day to night, business to casual, antiquing to saving the world from alien invaders. That’s why my shoes are goddamn robots.
Say I’m stuck in traffic and really need to get to Bath and Body before their semiannual sale ends. Sure, I could get on my phone and order online like a common heathen, or I can click my trusty rocket loafers. In a flash, I’ll be soaring through the air on my way to snatch up some delicious Sweater Weather candles. See ya, bitches! Traffic jams are for suckers.
Or say, for example, I’m hanging out at the beach in my sassy sarong wrap and an adorably floppy hat when some hottie offers to teach me how to water ski. No way am I leaving my $400 lace-up sandals alone on the shore where any rando can make off with the best damn pair of shoes they’ve ever seen in their lives. But that’s okay, because one quick flip of a switch and these flirty shoes transform into my very own private jet skis. Suck it, economically challenged beachgoers. These shoes let me truly have it all.
You would not believe how many amazing pairs of shoes I actually have and all the truly impressive things I can do with them. Ankle boots that double as a toaster, loafers that track my menstrual cycle—there isn’t anything my shoes can’t do. I do realize how truly blessed I am to have this life-changing footwear at my disposal, and I feel bad for all of you lowly normies who don’t have the ability to obtain such useful things for yourselves.
But, you know, I did have the foresight to befriend that mad scientist all those years ago and ply him with booze and Kind bars until I had a closet full of robot shoes. He’s long dead, but that doesn’t mean my supply has dried up. As his health began to wane, I convinced him to build a robot version of himself made up of old Uggs and Raffia sneakers. We’ve since begun to piece together a robotic receptacle to upload my memories into before my face is overcome with age wrinkles and sunspots. Shoe-bot me won’t be bothering to build anymore Transformer shoes, though. Even as a humanoid machine who could technically assemble firetruck Crocs for all eternity without ever tiring, I’m too good for manual labor.