Today I’m wearing high-heeled snakeskin pumps. No snakes were harmed in the making of these shoes.
Actually, that’s a bald-faced lie. I suppose the snakes whose skins were used for my pumps might have been a little harmed. But as the shoes were made in China, I’m pretty sure the snakes didn’t die just to feed my footwear fetish.
Their venom and blood would have been drained to make winter restoratives for old folks, and the rest of their bodies were probably stir fried with some fresh asparagus and oyster sauce (tastes just like chicken!) to feed the shoemaker’s kids.
So in a way, my shoes have provided warmth, comfort and strength to some Grandpas and Grandmas (and according to Chinese old wives tales may even have enabled Grandpa to give Grandma a bit of a thrill), and nourishment to some hungry family.
Really, I feel kinda good about my shoes…