Let's be honest: about fifty percent of my affinity for lucite sandals can be attributed to these chairs:

They're my new dining room chairs. They remind me of Philippe Starck Ghost Chairs and yet are from Ikea, and I adore them (full review and purchasing rationale here).

The other fifty percent of this affinity is probably about the fact that lucite is very frequently found on shoes that are intended more for stage-strutting than for Sunday brunch. I mean, I am a person who has shopped at burlesque stores for everything from shoes to dresses to rugs with nary a trace of irony, and in another lifetime I would very much enjoy coming back as Dita Von Teese, so six-inch heels made of plastic are something I have exactly zero problem wearing.

Oh mah goodness, do I ever love those Jimmy Choo Anouk pumps. So does everyone else, apparently, because they're completely sold out everywhere on the planet (at least in the silver color, although I wouldn't throw the black or red ones out of bed, either). They are every single thing that I love in footwear right now: a pointy closed-toe pump with a slender heel in a metallic color.

They're also way, way too expensive. And, sure, last week I tried to convince myself that it's occasionally (like once-in-a-decade occasionally) OK to spend that kind of money on a shoe...but...I can't do it. It goes back to college, you see: for my birthday senior year, my boyfriend bought me a pair of strappy gold Manolos (I know, but trust me, this was an unusual occurrence), and I was obviously incredibly excited, so I wore them out on graduation night...

and it poured.

And I got caught in the rain, and they were more or less ruined. And that was so miserable that I'm not eager to repeat the experience ever again; I prefer my shoes nice and replaceable, thanks.