Pink Panther Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Flat


Once upon a time I didn’t believe in flats. Don’t get me wrong, I acknowledged that they existed. They were just for other people, not for me. To my mind, the sorts of people who wore flats were the same sort who might show up at your house unannounced. Or, who might ask you to water their plants while they’re at Burning Man. Or, who might invite you out to lunch, but could you pick them up? And, since you’re driving anyway, would you mind driving them to run a few errands? And, did they mention their cat has to come along because its been vomiting a lot and they need to keep an eye on it? Those tricky flat-wearers, treading so quietly in their no-heeled shoes, pouncing out of nowhere thanks to exceptional arch support and multi-surface traction, destroying your otherwise perfect day of solitude and the absence of cat vomit with their sneaky, sneaker-wearing ways. Bah! 

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