Get rhythm

Today in the shoe closet we are grappling with biorhythms. To save you a trip to Wikipedia, "Biorhythm is an attempt to predict various aspects of a person's life through simple mathematical cycles. Most scientists believe that the idea has no more predictive power than raw chance, and consider the concept an example of pseudoscience." Pseudoscience, huh? We'll get back to that. 

First, let me introduce you to the prettiest little fillies you're likely to meet this week. These are cobalt blue ponyskin moccasins (and those are my feet feeling very smug in them). 

They are from a Moscow shoe store called Rendez-Vous (what is it with Russian shoe companies and random European names?) They are as soft and snug as a little girl dreaming safely of gymkhanas. Which is understandable when you check out their soles. 

To quote Paul Simon, "People say she's crazy, she got diamonds on the soles of her shoes." Diamonds make a certain amount of off-beat sense ("Well that's one way to lose these walking blues," as Rhymin' Simon pointed out.) But ponyskin? Blue ponyskin? That's ridiculous. Where would you wear them? 

This and other thoughts ("they cost how much?") passed through my head one recent evening in Rendez-Vous. It was a Sunday, I was limping homewards along Petrovka Ulitsa after a sadistic Chinese masseuse had tap danced on my spine for the last 40 minutes (long story), and I stopped in for a restorative shoe peruse. 

Well, the long and the short of it is that this branch of R-V did not have my size, and so I staggered home, alone. But the memory of these moccs wouldn't leave me. I remembered my last, beloved, pair, immortalized (um...) in a Shoeblog last year. Hmm, let me just look at that Shoeblog... It was then that I noticed the freaky thing: date of last moccasin purchase: August 21, 2010. Date of current moccasin crush: August 21, 2011.

Well, I don't know about you, but I don't believe in coincidence. Biorhythms, however, are another matter. Quite clearly, on August 21st, wherever in the world they may be, my feet are ready for moccasins. A quick trip to another branch of Rendez-Vous, and me 'n' the ponies are harnessed together. So what if the only place I can wear them is my bedroom? Who am I to argue with fate?