Dear Target,

I love you. I really do. And you seem to love me back just as much. Everytime I walk into any of your stores, I like to think that your automatic sliding doors are the equivalent of giant corporate arms, opening to envelope me in your retail love. I come with the sole mission to buy dog food, but because you present me with so many beautiful things, I end up walking out three hours later with said dogfood, a new swimsuit, a lamp, an armful of random knick-knacks from your cheap-o front displays; measuring spoons, a coin purse (because hel-lo, it was on clearance for $3!), a new bottle of shampoo, and a panini press.

I don't even know how to use a panini press. Let alone, make a panini.

So as you can imagine, Target trips are somewhat of a vacation for me. I count down the minutes until I'm pulling into your parking lot. I wander around your store for hours upon hours, touching, feeling, holding items, and imagining all the things I can do with them. When I leave, I leave with a hole in my heart as big as the one in my wallet, but fondly look forward the next go-round.

However. HOWEVER. Lately, I have been not-so-happy with you.

You see, a few years ago-- okay, eons ago, I stumbled upon the most fantastic pair of Xhiliration-brand heels in your store. They were the quintessential Little Black Dress, only for my feet. Cute. Classic. Practical. Most importantly, comfortable. They went with everything-- dresses, office pants, shorts, you name it-- and I wore them everywhere. At one point, everyday.

In the last year or two, they have sadly but expectedly worn down. The heel stopper is uneven due to my awkward gait and the striping on the sole has been eroded to baby-bottom smoothness. The leather has surprisingly held up well, leading me to believe that when the world ends, there will be nothing left but dust, cockroaches, and me clutching onto these shoes for dear life.

Which is why, dear Target, I must have another. Maybe two. Black of course. And maybe red.

But you no longer carry these shoes in your stores. Every year, with every changing season, I make that usual trip down to the shoe aisle and seek out something, anything that closely resembles my beloveds. Four years ago, you may have had something close, but the heel was too skinny and about half an inch too high (yes, I do notice these things). Recently, it's been a disappointing effort and I think I've stopped trying altogether.

So, I beg of you, please bring back these amazing little heels to your store and I promise, I will buy six pairs in each color, and whore the hell out of them to my friends who, in turn, will buy hundreds and thousands of them. Or you can just send one little lone size six-and-a-half pair to my house and we will call it even [for all those times I maxed out my credit cards in your stores]

But even if you didn't, I'll still love you. Forever and ever. Even if it means tripping into your store, wearing my poor, crooked, ragged-- but still adorable!-- heels the whole time :)

Love,
Angie