Some late-night thoughts on the whole business of finding Cinderella(s):
You don’t take the glass slipper around the kingdom. You don’t search high and low for the right girl to fit your stupid pre-fab magic shoe.
You find the girl first. Then you sit down with her and explain the limited materials you have to work with. If all you have to offer is glass, you say so. Then you ask her what she wants in a pair of sensible-yet-sexy enchanted footwear. You take HER measurements. And when you’re done, you take her to the shoemaker and you have her fitted for the glass slippers you designed together.
And you know what? People will marvel that she’s such a perfect fit for you. People will assume you bumped into the right person like a lucky idiot, not that you listened to each other, were considerate of each other, and worked together to make something that you both wanted. You walk with her and dance with her in those shoes as long as you can, and you love every minute of it.
And by God, the minute that shoe *doesn’t* fit, you smash it immediately. You melt it down, and pour it out, and you redesign, and you build a new shoe, based on what you both want now, not what fit nicely a week ago. You make a new perfect shoe–different from the old one, maybe, but no less perfect.