So after three days of trekking back and forth across Austin, I finally had a blow-out. My prized loafers — a clutch $10 find at a thrift store — decided they'd had too much and, as you can see, the right one has decided to give up the ghost (or, more specifically, the sole).
Concerned, I hobbled over to a boot repair place on Colorado Avenue, where I was told that a blow-out of this proportion would take "four days to fix, (be)'cause they'd have to send it to the shop." Obviously, I don't have four days, so until Sunday, my options are a) bite the bullet and pick up a pair of cowboy boots, or b) suck it up and hobble around SXSW with my toes sticking out of my shoes like some sad little hobo. And given my current financial situation, it looks like I'm going with "b," which means I should get fitted for a little 'kerchief bundle on the end of a stick.