Shoe light bulbs

I went to Hawaii expecting lovely beaches and exotic people. Instead, I was surprised in Honolulu by New York-esque buildings and very American looking people. The area where I stayed was a shopper's cornucopia, perfectly pretty streets lined with high end shops of every ilk, peppered with a jewelry store in between each one. In contrast, the strip of beach in front of my hotel was small and unattractive, hopeful surfers bobbing endlessly in the pitiful waves. I was goin to be here a few days, so I did the logical thing--I went shopping with my new friend.
She liked to shop, too, she said. She was a toucher. I could look without putting my fingers on a thing, not even my wallet, but not this one. She touched everything and surprisingly enough, no one said a thing. On store, Fendi asked us to unhand our lattes because of their valuable merchandise. We promptly left.
Louis Vuitton had a private shopping area that we peered into curiously. We wanted in there too. What things were behind that white wall that we were not privy to? They informed us they had someone inside then, but if we waited we could go in. We left in a huff. They blew that one too.
Eventually, we made our way to the mall. This was no ordinary mall. None of the "regular' shops were to be found. This was another haute couture only haven. Once again, I found myself inside Neiman Marcus, where we did, what else, try on shoes. The saleswomen was very patient as she oooed and oahhed over each and every shoe we tried on, and we tried on a few, discussing of each. I tried to show my companion why you spent what you did on a good shoe. She was skeptial at first, and then she slipped her foot into a M.B. Her breath caught in her throat. "Oh, my god!" she said. "This is heaven."
My mission was accomplished. I had proven my point. Cinderella was indeed proof that a good shoe could change your life. I don't think she will ever look at shoes the same way again.