No I'm not advertising these for sale on my Etsy. The only way anyone might buy these is if I become famous after death for being the worlds most bizarre shoe hoarder. Not a fancy way of being remembered. I guess they speak for themselves, although they do have a story. It all came apart after I went to a Verbal Abuse show at Shady Acres, a rotten, decrepit punk house, ran by Phil. The shows took place in a old barn behind the house. It was pretty much a club, he charged at the "door" and that's how he payed his rent. Anyway, the shoes. So after a night at Phil's, I left the shoes there. I don't remember why. I'm sure I was drunk, my feet hurt and I lived a block away. I went back for them the next day only to find the heels hammered into a tree. My jaw dropped, but I couldn't help but laugh, collect them and go. Shady Acres was shut down and it's since been rehabilitated, I actually lived there for a few months with my friend Ashley who now resides in it's peaceful state. I still wear these shoes, they've endured a lot and with anything that has I don't believe in throwing out.
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