And so, on New Year’s Day - the first walk of the new year. No need to get too intrepid about it – an hour
and a half up and down the Hollywood Hills, including the wonderfully named
Tuxedo Terrace, sun shining, the spirit of Christmas fading away slowly but
surely. The Santa Claus on top of the
lamp post had already gone, but the Peanuts gang were still in situ, alongside
a very stylish mail box.
Elsewhere the party was more definitely over, and I know it’s never
easy to get rid of a big old Christmas tree, and these people have at least put
a small amount of thought into what to do with theirs. Cutting off the branches
is certainly a start, but not the complete solution, I’m thinking.
And to show that some kind of party, must have ended in some kind of chaos,
here, carefully placed atop some kind of fire hydrant, was a woman’s single
shoe, sort of elegant (red suede), sort of clunky (a cork platform).
I always think there’s something
infinitely melancholy about a single shoe lying in the street. You can think of various reasons for losing a
shoe – it dropped out of your bag, both shoes simply hurt too much, and you took
them off and carried on walking barefoot, but it was night and you dropped one
of them and it slid down the hill and
you couldn’t find it in the dark, or maybe something genuinely Dionysian took
place, shoes, clothes, inhibitions, everything was tossed into the winds and
the next day only a shoe remained.
And maybe somebody is saying to themselves right now, “I wonder what
happened to that red suede platform shoes of mine, I know I was wearing it at
the party.” Better get down there quick. One way or another, I’m guessing it won’t stay
on top of that hydrant for very long.
And finally (above) a couple of girls from the past who are walking into the future, via treadmill, wearing the correct number of shoes, which actually look like tap shoes to me. You wouldn't want to lose one of them.
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