I got real snakeskin shoes, which I photographed in the mirror all arty and whatnot.
I scored them for free because a friend of a friend works at Nike and they didn't fit him. I've talked about the disproportionate amount of pride I take in having easy-to-fit sample size feet, but I've never thought of myself as someone who loves shoes.
Yet slipping these on makes me inordinately happy, as do many of my shoes. Likewise for hats and scarves. Perhaps it's because the moments of feeling at home in the rest of my body have been so fleeting over the course of my life.
Yeah, still working on that one.