Lancômely

I used to enjoy going to the mall. Now I hate the mall. But I hate it less than being in our house by day with more than a couple of the kids, so a segment of the "What to do on a sleety April afternoon?" agenda found me in the late afternoon, while #1 & 2 were at the latest Narnia show, doing a slow, internal lap of the mall with #3 & 4, the latter being Bobbed around by the former, who loved every minute of the whole deal -- the lights, the sounds, the people, the escalators, etc. Among the many, lovely legs --most of them striding below jail bait, however-- was this exquisite pair at the Lancôme counter. (At what point of an 8-hour shift do those heels start inflicting five-alarm excruciation?)