One of my favorite gifts ever was a vintage pair of Shoshone hightop moccasins.
My ex-husband bought them at a museum auction and had them soled for me. I am past the age of wearing them with a short denim skirt, though I could wear them with jeans, still. They complimented any outfit. Correction: They didn’t compliment. They rocked ! In fact, once I was at the old Hollywood Park race track, enjoying a table on the Turf Club mezzanine with friends.
I scurried up the concrete steps to place a bet. I decided to visit the ladies’ room before returning all the way to our seats. Between races, the women’s restroom was crowded–no potty parity here–but I was willing to wait in line. I was approaching the front of the line. One of the stalls opened. Adjusting her black and white skirt—wearing white shiny stiletto boots, too, and glamorously scarved—was Elizabeth Taylor. Yes, coming of the race track toilet. ‘Adjusting,’ is a private moment, so I was surprised when she gushed about my boots!
“Darling, those are heavenly.”
Damn, she sounds just like Cleopatra.
“Wh-wh-why thank you,” I managed to stammer.
Can’t remember if my bet won.
