They look quite tired, hung over, just like their owner. But a night out that doesn’t wear you out isn’t worth mentioning, is it? Gin and tonics, loosened collars, opened shirts, one button at a time, seducing moves, glances, sultry, sleek and suicidal, another turn on some dance floor, suddenly in the daylight, another one for the road, another toast to nuits blanches, another breakfast taken in the afternoon, another headache, strangely cured by a smile the day after, that, and some more orange juice, it takes a lot of fluids to get it all out of your system, all that yummy poison, and, sometimes, sadly, the heart palpitations go as well, turning that high into a low again. But even when love isn’t there to stay, these shoes are. Bless you, Yves Saint Laurent.