clean retina


In feet on May 4, 2011 at 8:15pm05

1.What are you feeling at the moment?

Loafer:                               Mary Jane:

As if  — That was directed — I beg to —            A little — That was for me  — I don’t  —

2.  I see we might have  a problem going forward. Let’s start with the Mary Jane. What are you feeling at the moment?


3. Loafer?

Encroached upon.

4. Loafer, if you could style yourself what would be the accoutrements?

Vanessa Bruno woven shorts, Theyskens’ Theory ‘Jago’ satin blazer, a Splendid cotton T-shirt and Topshop pointelle ankle socks.

5. Mary Jane, same question.

Because I consider myself to take life a little less seriously than let’s say a… loafer, I’d have to go with the Lela Rose silk-organza skirt, a Preen cropped cardigan,  a Zero + Maria Cornejo multi strap bandeau and an Odile Gilbert hair pin.

6. The U.S. presidential campaign season is fresh out of the gate. Loafer, you’re running for president; why do you deserve my vote?

It was sometime in the 1930s when my Norwegian ancestors decided to go forth and spread the news of their existence to the rest of the continent. A fateful encounter with an American would bring them here to these united states and into the hearts and minds of New Hampshire’s Spaulding family. After much painstaking development and hard work, the Spauldings would bear a shoe and they would call it “the loafer.” I’d go on to become a fixture amongst sects so diverse they would include the landed gentry,  housewives, businessmen, prepsters and Michael Jackson. It is the ability to transition smoothly from leisure to business at a moment’s notice I believe will make me the perfect candidate to lead this country. And so in closing, with socks or without, the choice will always be yours. Thank you and God bless America. Oh! One more thing. I’d also reinstate the Glass-Steagall Act. Okay, now I’m done.

7. Mary Jane, why do I want you as the leader of the free world?

Well, the previous answer’s a pretty tough act to follow but I’ll try. *deep breath* As God as my witness, I will not rest until every person of this great land has a reality show, clothing line, bag line, capsule collection, CD dropping, jazz hands, bun in the oven, Facebook page, cookbook, blog, narcolepsy, kleptomania, a slight cold and Twitter happy trigger fingers… or is it trigger happy Twitter fingers?

Loafer: You see what I have to deal with? Nothing’s ever taken seriously.

Mary Jane: So I should emulate you, a shoe let’s not forget, and answer the question honestly.

Loafer: Hey, Sarah Palin came this close. FranklyI think you’re just insecure because you were inspired by Buster Brown’s sister. I mean, how far down on the totem pole does one have to travel in order for their moniker to be that of a secondary comic strip character?

8. It’s clear there’s some tension. Where do you go from here? Loafer, you first.

Loafer: It’s hard for me to say, honestly.

Mary Jane: Seems to me like you had no problem.

Loafer: This is every second of the day, mind you. Other times it’s downright caustic.

Mary Jane: Come on! That was funny!

Loafer: It’s not like I can get away from it. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a little space every now and again, but who am I?

Mary Jane: A loafer who loves to play the victim. Look, we just have two very different ways of looking at the world. Mine’s not uptight, while the loafer’s… well, let’s just say a night with a pro might not be a bad idea.

Loafer: Charming. Anyway, I can’t help but think the brain trust behind our conception got a little chuckle after relishing in the completion of the  finished product. At last, however, we’re not just things to be toyed with, mashed together on a fleeting whim like some Girl Talk creation. These are individual lives you’re dealing with. Actual lives.

Mary Jane: First of all, Girl Talk is amazing. Secondly, I’m just afraid SJP won’t wanna wear me with this monkey on my back.

Loafer: SJ —  Monkey?! Okay, that’s it!

9. Should I break this up?

Loafer:              Mary Jane:

NO!                  Gaahhh!

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