So around 5 p.m. Thursday night I was sitting at the office frantically trying to meet a deadline and doing too many things at once. The phone rang. I answered brusquely and in the best I'm-busy-don't-bother-me voice I could muster: "Dani Lemon." It was Annie: "It's the Army and Navy Shoe Sale." Silence. Then: "They're putting out new stock at 7 pm." "Done," I barked. "We're there." I slammed the phone down. Deadline bedamned. This was a Vancouver tradition I was yet to experience and the siren call of cheap designer shoes was too strong to ignore.

We tore through the racks in Army and Navy's grungy basement with half of the female population from Vancouver, protecting our prospective purchases with our lives. I grabbed probably 8 pairs on my first go-round, and Annie, Mel and I raced for a vinyl bench so we could try on our finds. First, a Steve Madden sandal. Too narrow. Then, a BCBG purple suede open-toe pump. Too high. The next pair looked like hooker heels. As I went steadily through my basket, it continued: too wide, too blister-inducing (a sensitive subject anyway), too tacky, too slutty, too long, too cheap, not cheap enough.

I was in despair; it was like the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, reimagined. It was the Rime of the Ancient Cobbler, or the Rime of the Not-so-Ancient Shopaholic:

Water, water, every where,

And all the boards did shrink ;

Water, water, every where,

Nor any drop to drink.

Dammit, I wanted cheap designer shoes! I was surrounded by cheap designer shoes! Why didn't any fit?! Mel came back with a great pair of Michael Kors shoes, black leather with a wedge heel, open-toed, and a gold "Michael Kors" plate glistening on the back of the heel. Why couldn't I find cute shoes like those?! I decided to make it my mission to FIND. THOSE. SHOES.

I prowled through the racks. Size 6 to 10, over and over again, with razor-like focus. I was determined to find a deal. To find my dream designer shoes. I limped from rack to rack, pushed through the sea of women. It was extreme shopping. I started to tire. I was weary. For the first time in my life, I was getting shopping legs, and thought it might be time to give up...

There passed a weary time.

Each throat

Was parched, and glazed each eye.

A weary time ! a weary time !

How glazed each weary eye,

When looking westward, I beheld

A something in the sky.

Suddenly I saw something glinting gold, tucked away at the back of a rack I had already ransacked. There they were. The Michael Kors pumps.They were tucked away inconspicuously with their heel out, the gold logo plate the only thing to alert me to their presence. And next to the Michael Kors pumps? Metallic Kenneth Cole Reaction wedge sandals! Yes! Things were looking up! And next to the Kenneth Coles, black leather Point Zero Mary Janes! Yes! Surely it would be smooth sailing from here!

And so it 'twas, dear reader, that Dani sallied forth from Hastings Street, six shoes richer...her faith in the Army and Navy Shoe Sale restored. Was it worth the struggle, the lost hope, the despair? Only the fashion gods can tell...