Twist my arm

Suppose one day you were sitting at the deli counter eating your sandwich and a mysterious old woman with frizzy orange hair, a leopard print coat, and a pair of cat-eye glasses appeared in a puff of smoke next to you. While you gape, astonished, she takes you by the arm and says "No arguments! The fate of humanity rests on your shoulders. A lump of money is going to appear in your bank account today and you must spend it on shoes. If not, something terrible will happen. I can say no more!" And she vanishes, leaving you to your bemusement and pastrami-on-rye.

Well, if you insist.

If this happened to me, I think I'd look for ... a classic pair of cap-toe flats ... a rich cognac brogue ... a neutral wedge for spring and summer ... and, much as I loathe the ridiculous high-heel clog trend that the magazines are telling us we should buy into (I love me my Danskos, but c'mon: really?) ... a pair of cherry red wooden sandals to make me feel like a kid again.

What about you?