Totes

The opera house steps stretch endlessly before you, the ushers hurrying expected guests through the grand doors, the performance starts imminently. Your heels click frantically against marble as you race up, the tiny hammered brass of your earrings catching the light with each hurried step.

Almost there—and then your stiletto betrays you, sliding off and clattering down behind you. You pause, breathless, as footsteps approach.

"Allow me," comes a cultured voice. You turn to see a man in an impeccable tuxedo ascending with your shoe, his eyes immediately drawn to the miniature masterpieces swaying at your ears.

"Your earrings," he says, momentarily forgetting the shoe in his hand. "They're so chic... like tiny couture handbags." His gaze traces the hammered texture, mesmerized by their sophisticated geometry.

You steady yourself against his offered arm as he slips the shoe back onto your foot. "They're meant to look like little totes," you breathe, still catching your breath.

"Brilliant," he murmurs, his fingers lingering near your ankle. "Where does one find such inspired design?"

"Webster Street," you reply, and together you slip through the doors just as the house lights dim, making it perfectly on time.