It was my first week in Manhattan after moving here for college, and some Orientation Week friends were going out to a club on the Lower East Side. For some reason, our group’s ring leader made the executive decision that we’d walk there — “It’s only 14 blocks!” — and I was wearing a $20 pair of booties that I’d purchased earlier that day. After 10 blocks of walking, my feet were bleeding. When we got to the club, I was in so much pain that my body said, “Are you freaking kidding me with these things?” Even after projectile vomiting in front of roughly 300 strangers, I had convinced myself that these shoes were still necessary —no, VITAL — to my outfit, and I kept on wearing them. Ah, young Augusta. So naive.
*Note the laughing through pain happening in this photo.