Wearing.

If you have to figure out how to wear it, don’t wear it…

Wanting.

F**k-you heels with all right angles, on super-sale…

Hating.

Probably an accurate scale for most relationships…

Because your dollars do better invested in a hooker.

If you didn’t win the Fendi Hologram clutch, buy it on sale.

Shoes are a platform for your life: shoes should be ambitiously arched so you watch your walk, shoes should be built on a thick soul to cushion gritty paths, shoes should have a f**k-you heel at an odd, right angle so people know you’re different.

Shoes should also be half off.

Kind of like your panties are, half the time.

Thank you all for entering, and thanks to e-boutique Trendora™ for sponsoring this Fendi “Hologram” clutch giveaway.

Though the closest to communism I’ve gotten is The Boy taking me to the Kremlin for my birthday, if I could I’d give you all a Fendi bag.

However, until Hillary is president, America’s still home to capitalism. So I’m picking the best entry for the Fendi bag:

Emma!

Thanks to all you boss ladies — and a few dudes — for entering. Read some of the best entries, after the jump.

As always, you ladies really make me want to touch myself touch me.

XXXO,
K

The Winner

Emma writes:

I deserve the Fendi clutch because like the girl named Kristopher, I use my name as a statement and whoever knows me, remembers me not because of pretentiousness, but because it’s more than owning up to a traditionally masculine name, but more like taking over the society-dictated male role of commanding and conquering. Because I don’t accept the feminine suggestion of staying seated and nodding. Because I jump the puddles in NYC in my way too-tall boots and read Kristopher’s blog in my iPhone everyday when I’m stuck at the bridge, cause there’s no other way I would survive it otherwise. I should have this clutch because I’m a married woman who still has great sex, maybe because I can be a hooker, too, and be it for my own personal pleasure, not like a sell-out devoted wife who waits at home for flowers with a home-cooked meatloaf — honey, flowers should only be given to the dead. I come home from work and I have a bottle of Pinot Noir waiting for me — I’m providing the meat, baby. I’m the true owner of this clutch because as a little girl, I didn’t draw up a picture of a family as my all-time, life defining goal, even though I would probably have one someday. I decided to enjoy a marriage for what it’s supposed to be: a partnership. I should get that clutch cause I’ve earned the respect of a boss lady while being 25 and being the youngest in my department. I own that clutch because I believe in myself and in my responsibility at having influence over others, because I don’t make excuses for my beauty or my achievements being that I worked for them just like anyone else. I’m BOSS enough for that clutch, cause I don’t tell people what to do — people follow my suggestions because usually, they’re the best ones.I’m chic enough for that clutch because the stockings I’m using for Christmas are the ones I’m taking off later. I deserve that clutch, because it would go well with my signature red lipstick, and nothing else, because that’s the way you should wait for Santa.

Miss Independent

Bianca writes:

I definitely need this clutch. I work 9 to 5 and occasionally 5 to 9 as a waitress at gentleman’s establishment to satisfy my clothing habit. I work hard but stay boss in second-skin outfits and 4+-inch heels. I handle my own business and don’t rely on a man for anything, except when I happen to run out of batteries…

In closing, I should own the Fendi clutch because it is a boss bag for a boss lady like myself and would look great with my boys’ favorite outfit: five-inch heels, Burberry trench and nothing but a boss body underneath.

Erin writes:

Because my divorce from my millionaire ex-husband is almost done…and I’m graduating from nursing school next week, ready to make it on my own in the world for the first time now. I don’t need his money and I know I can succeed on my own terms — but roughing it would be a lot more glamorous with a Fendi purse.

The Renaissance Man

Ro writes:

Via Haiku:

Sensation, no touch

Sultry is Clutch, Legs, Grin, gaze

Someone Forget the Parental Controls on AOL

Alana writes:

Goes a little something like this: nice quiet girl from small suburban town stumbles upon your website after searching for “hot shoes” and discovering your trademark f**k-you shoe. Nice quiet girl (from here on out to be known as NQG) falls in love with your writing and your style and sneaks peeks at your blog while at work… What else is a NQG supposed to do? NQG’s love for python handbags and four-inch platforms quickly blossoms and she falls in love with Kris and this Fendi clutch. I promise to rock it everywhere I go… with five coats of mascara… and shoes that make me watch my walk… and a skirt so short you can’t help but stare. All while holding the hand (or another part) of my boy.

The Boy Has Competition

Kelly writes:

Because Kelly, also with a K, is the perfect name for a Boy that got over the girly aspects of it long ago. The clutch would look stunning slung over the shoulder of my much appreciated Pretty Woman as she carries in her days belonging to the smallest discreet hotel in this cultural oasis of a city. So, we make our own opera across from the city workers hive, the sheer curtains giving them a peek-a-boo look at what real sex can be like. Like you she thinks her skirt can never be too short, her life too caffeinated, or her heels too high.

Dave writes:

Why do I deserve it? I don’t. However, my special lady, My better half does, as she puts up with my crap, my toys, and my hobbies and has a relentless giving heart. She has been there through thick and thin, for better AND worse, and through tears and laughter. This would indeed be a great place to hide that engagement ring I have been meaning to purchase… Behind every good man is indeed a great woman and I would love to spoil Linda for once with a gift that she would appreciate with the 2cts inside…

“Linda” writes:

It is pretty simple. I am entering my girlfriend to win this purse because she is BOSS. She deserves this thing more then anyone. She is always there, works 60 hours a week and does not drink ANY caffeine, ahem…Kristopher… ha, she always finds her way home in time for dinner, and most of the time cooks it, and cleans up as I work to finish our house. She deals with the house being constantly under construction and keeps it spotless. Instead of bitching about something needing repair, she gets down and dirty and helps solve the problem. She is always there for me, through everything. She cooks, cleans, works, and ALWAYS finds the time to dress in her naughties and parade around this construction site keeping me on my toes being sexy and seductive. As a guy, I think its a pretty difficult feat to walk around a place with saws and equipment in six-inch bedroom shoes and at that make it look good and effortless. She has a tireless sex drive.. thank god, and is always willing to pleasure me in more ways then one. She just came into the bed room and read this. She thought it was sweet, and just told me that when I am finished, she is going to suck me dry. YES!!! Yep, she came in, read this message, and told me that it’s sweet, and she wants me head when I am done. How boss is that? I have no idea where she finds the energy to do everything she does, and still has more then enough left over to fuck for the better of 2 hours EVERY night. This is no light sex either…This girl deserves this bag.

Isn’t the Midwest Just Land to Farm Soybeans for Soy Lattes?

Katie writes:

It’s my last night in New York and I’m standing in the rain. It’s exactly the type of night a producer would manufacture for a big-time movie full of bold-faced names. All those lights are bleeding into the wet asphalt. The yellow cabs are slinking through the drizzle. Even the soaked newspapers, flapping in the gutter, seem to be placed there by a props department for impact.Lucky for me, there’s a red carpet stretched out to meet me (concrete gets awfully slippery in the rain). My girlfriend, the nice one, already has a table and waves when I come in.

“It’s going to suck, you know?” This is the first thing she says to me.

“It won’t be that bad. It’s not like I’m moving to Montana.”

She leans forward on the edge of her seat and swallows the last of her drink. “Yeah, but still, LA. . . .New York.” She pulls her hands apart. The space between them widens with her eyes. “You’ll be in the mid-west.” She says it like it’s a dirty word.

“It’s still Chicago.”

“You’ll still be a mid-westerner.”

It’s funny how someone can sum you up in a sentence like that. I’m considering whether I should tell her that it’s not just moving away. It’s moving towards something too.

She’s angling her steak knife in front of her so she can check out her pretty little reflection. “If I got up and left my friends and family and boyfriend,” she shakes her head and trails off. “Away from it all, doesn’t that sting?”

I think on this a minute, mostly reconsidering why I dubbed her my “nice” girlfriend. “Yeah, maybe, but at least I get to bring my shoes.”

That’s really why I deserve the Fendi bag. I don’t have a tug-at-your-heart-strings story to tell you. I’m not about to parade out my saddest moment in life and hope you’ll feel badly enough to give the bag to me. I deserve the clutch because I have a killer pair of heels to wear with it and because, with me, it’ll always be in the hands of a girl who would rather be uncomfortable and uprooted then safe and settled.

Out of Nietzsche

Heya writes:

I’ve noticed some of those comments ranting about their poor life asking for mercy in order to get this bag. But that is definitely not the reason designer bags are made.

You’ve got until midnight to win this Fendi hologram clutch. The best things in life aren’t free, so while I’m giving away a Fendi hologram clutch* with e-boutique Trendora™, it’s no random drawing.

You’ve got to sign up here and tell us why you deserve this boss Fendi clutch.

As always, you ladies really make me want to touch myself touch me.

XXXO,
K

* Contest ends December 31, 2007 at 11:59 am PST. A winner will be chosen January 1, 2008.

You’ve got two more weeks to win a Fendi hologram clutch. The best things in life aren’t free, so while I’m giving away a Fendi hologram clutch* with e-boutique Trendora™, it’s no random drawing.

You’ve got to sign up here and tell us why you deserve this boss Fendi clutch.

Entries don’t need to be epic like those VOGUEs that weigh more than you: just name drop Heidi Fleiss, link to a YouTube vid full of lap dances and dirty talk, and you’re a likely winner.

As always, you ladies really make me want to touch myself touch me.

XXXO,
K

* Contest ends December 31, 2007. A winner will be chosen January 1, 2008.

You’ve got to sign up here and tell us why you deserve this boss Fendi clutch*.

Entries mentioning making more money than god and/or a personal life goal of always wanting to have sex with yourself receive special consideration.

As always, you ladies really make me want to touch myself touch me.

XXXO,
K

* Contest ends December 31, 2007. A winner will be chosen January 1, 2008.

The best things in life aren’t free, everything priceless is never priced less: think an early exit in a f**k-you shoe, think driving a buck-fifty in a Porsche, think…

Sex.

So I’m giving away a Fendi hologram clutch with e-boutique Trendora™, but this time it’s no random drawing. You’ve got to sign up here and tell us why you deserve this boss Fendi clutch*.

Entries mentioning lap dances for the girl named Kristopher who speaks of herself in the third person receive special consideration.

Consider this a holiday thank you for you lovelies reading all the time. It really makes me want to touch myself touches me.

XXXO,
K

* Contest ends December 31, 2007. A winner will be chosen January 1, 2008.

eLUXURY doesn’t ship this python Fendi belt to California.

Dude.

I’m like, totally, taking L.A. out of my Sidekick for reals now.

» Python Fendi belt $1,005, eLUXURY

Same goes for metallic Marc-y Marc Jacobs flats.

You deserve only the most boss from Barney’s sale, lovelies.