Luck on my side, sort of

Living here in Kommetjie where life is casual and relaxed, it is easy to fall into the habit of wearing loose, comfortable clothing and old, well worn-in shoes. A visit to the local mall will provide evidence that many who live in the south Peninsula are of similar bent, although I draw the line at tracksuit pants. And so when the opportunity arises to step up my game and pull on the skinny jeans, high-heeled boots and figure-hugging shirt with all accessories - scarf to waft delicately, earrings, necklace, red lipstick - I go the whole hog (well, maybe not quite, but enough to elicit comment).
Such an opportunity occurred this week when I went to Claremont and had to park at Cavendish Square. Eagerly anticipating a stroll through its marbled halls and perhaps popping into a shop or two, I was ready to go well before the time to leave. Somewhat distracted by last-minute paperwork and awaiting a visit from a caller who would be collecting something from me, I slipped out of my slippers (I don't wear shoes in the house as a rule) and into my running shoes. (Technically only used for walking.) This was because I would be meeting her in the driveway and the ground was damp. Having concluded the business, I was now running late, so I dashed inside, grabbed my bag and drove off.
Forty minutes later, I eased into a parking place right next to the lifts, opened my door and delicately placed my old-running-shoe-clad foot on the concrete. So much for the sexy high-heeled boots.
I adjusted to my fashion faux pas without too much distress. After all, if I hadn't had to go outside to meet the woman, there is little doubt that my footwear would have been my German felt slippers, big toes peeping out. Would I have continued through the mall, along the street and into the office if I had been in my slippers? Probably!