I’m at the market looking at Crocs that may be real and may just be knock-offs. A few weeks ago, my dance teacher noticed that I don’t have any sort of slip-on shoes. She shrugged off my protests that I get blisters from slip-on shoes and still brings up the subject of my lack of sandal every now and then. I’m considering giving in to the pressure and actually buying a pair, but first I need to do research.
So I’m standing here, getting elbowed by several women sorting through the Crocs, and listening to them bargain. If I do decide to buy these shoes, I want to know how much they should actually cost.
It’s hard to keep track of what’s going on, because there are a lot of different shoes and a lot of different women and a lot of different numbers being tossed around.
“Yang bling-bling,” one of the women says. She’s buying shoes for her daughter and is asking how much the ones with sparkles–bling–cost.
I am overjoyed to hear this turn of phrase. It’s actually real.
A few days ago, my dance teacher was showing me some of her dance jewelry in an effort to make me useful backstage and described her necklace using the term bling-bling. At the time, I thought she was joking, or maybe that bling-bling applied only to jewelry.
“What’s bling-bling in English?” she asked.
“Bling,” I said, nodding sagely, because the word bling is best said with a straight face and an air of seriousness.
Not that I’m acting very serious in the market. I repeat bling-bling under my breath and grin widely. Everything’s better when a word like this is commonly used.
This post dedicated P.W., because I think he’d appreciate this particular nuance of language.