March 29, 2012 |
The girl in the red-hooded cape, or Miu Miu to her friends (why they called her that she wasn’t sure – something to do with her meowing to herself, apparently, and her love of Miu Miu boots) was strolling through the woods, when suddenly she spied a little house that looked surprisingly similar to her new Miu Miu boots. Or was it a house? Maybe it was just a giant boot that could double as a house. She pulled up her hood and set off to investigate. The first thing she noticed was the smell: freshly baked gingerbread. “Ugh, calories,” she thought while contemplating remaking the façade in a soft leather. She knocked on the door and was greeted by an old hag. And, permeating the ginger smell, a curious smell of something roasting. Peering through the door, she was intrigued by the interior. The walls were covered in iced ginger biscuit appliqué, bright red and pale cream roses and what she liked to call western twirls, “Just like the flame-like leather cut-outs on a pair of cowboy boots,” she thought to herself. In fact, the walls reminded her of her own boots. She needed to learn the secret of re-creating her boot as an interior. So she tied the hag up (you can never trust a hag; her cousin Gretel had encountered by one before, many years earlier with her brother, when they had been enticed into her gingerbread house only for her to try to fatten them up and roast them for her dinner) before setting about extracting her home décor secrets from her. It turned out it was all about attention to detail. Every shape on the wall had been cut by hand, baked until pale golden in colour and affixed with a glossy icing paste – not too thin or it would drip, and not so thick that the individual leaves of each rose petal couldn’t be painted on. Much in the same way the roses on her boots had been stitched in place by hand using the tiniest stitches, almost invisible at first glance. She’d always had an appreciation for fine craftsmanship. Her boots were a feat of it. The leather was so soft it felt more like a sock. She decided then and there to move in, but the hag had to go. She was clashing with the interior. “Black robes really are very last season,” she thought to herself as she booted her out into the snow. And in her place she arranged her Miu Miu boots. On a giant gingerbread-rose stool.
by Natalie Dembinska
