The Island Shoe Girl's Blog

Where shoes meet sand…

Why Are We Chasing Rainbows? November 1, 2009

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 10:44 am
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beverly feldman silver with bow 3

These Beverly Feldman's are perfect for chasing rainbows and what ever else in life you may need. Photo by Jean Thornton

Rainbows in Key West are not an uncommon sight, especially during the rainy season. On my morning walk with the dog after a pre-dawn rain shower, a perfect rainbow presented itself against an equally flawless blue sky.  I fought the child-like desire to chase the colors sprayed across the sky in an attempt to find the mythical pot of gold promised on the other end.  But even as adults, no matter how fast we run or how far we drive, it seems the end of the rainbow is never reached.  So why, even when we know better, do we still feel drawn to chasing rainbows?

It could be the cynic in me or it could have been that, at the exact moment nature was presenting a wonder in the sky, my mp3 player was blasting You Can’t Always Get What You Want  by the Rolling Stones, giving me a strange urge to run the exact opposite direction of the rainbow.  After all, if Mick Jagger’s words are right we get what we need, not always what we want.  The independent woman in me agrees—I get what I need through my hard work and ambition.  A goal-driven person like me must believe her success is the result of her own efforts and is not what is found at the end of mystical illusion. 

However, if I listen to Kermit the Frog, who actually gives very good advice, I am told not to believe that rainbows are not simply visions or illusions yet in reality are what separate the lovers and dreamers from the rest of the world.  Judy Garland sang of a world where troubles melted away and blue birds soared.  If there was ever a girl who needed her troubles to melt away it was Judy.  It is easy to see why as children rainbows sent our hearts racing.  Let us not forget that a somewhat healthy breakfast can consist of a bowl of Lucky Charms—a sugary treasure, but a treasure none the less.  

So is it better to believe in a pot of gold and a land made of dreams we had when we young—or is it best to stay grounded in our own reality, understanding that discovering unclaimed treasures seldom happens in the real world?  As much as I would like to believe that a shoe closet filled with all the high-heeled wonders this shoe girl could imagine would be at the end of my rainbow,  another part of  me has to me realize that, like the many other fantasies we hold as children, following rainbows are not the most practical use of our time. 

On the only side of the rainbow I know, I have no choice but to see the reality of life.   Dreams do not always come true on this side; at times there can be more frustration and stress than happiness.  It seems that as we get older, we give up the ideals we once had about careers, relationships, and the types of people we want to be.   It becomes just as unrealistic to continue chasing the dreams of perfection and unending bliss as it does to chase a rainbow.

And just when I think the push of the world is too much, I look up on a morning walk and see a rainbow arching across the top of the world.  I personally cannot help thinking that maybe Kermit and the Rolling Stones are both a little right.  We can not always get what we want; more often than not it is a struggle just to get what we need.  And we should never feel bad for accepting the difference between what we want and what we need.  But yes, I also believe there is still a rainbow connection out there too—a place where everything is bright and where our pot of gold waits for us in whatever form that “gold” might be.   And we should never feel bad for chasing rainbows even when it’s impractical.

For now I will choose to still let those color bands to be more than just visions and illusions and keep searching for my rainbow connection.  And if Kermit really is right those colors may just show us who we really are.  Treasures can be hard to find, but I am pretty sure that when they are found it is amazing.  There just might be a day when you wake up with the clouds far behind you; until then, a rainbow ahead of you is a good sign.

 

Costume Girl October 25, 2009

Filed under: Key West; Not Just for Flip Flops — theislandshoegirl @ 11:17 am
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Put on your party shoes and join the parade! Photo by Jean Thornton

Put on your party shoes and join the parade! Photo by Jean Thornton

As a child, Halloween was a one-night event with a sweet tooth hangover that lasted up to two weeks and ushered in the beginning of “the holidays”.  While Halloween is not as traditional a holiday as Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah or New Year’s Eve, it does usher in the two-month period of shopping, cooking, traveling and reuniting in one last desperate attempt to cram all those put-off visits into the final weeks of the year. 

Most of us think of Halloween as a child’s holiday, a time of mischief and disguise that we all must outgrow.  Viewed as a night of crisp air that is filled with both turning leaves and children’s laughter, a rare time of year before jackets shift to winter coats, rakes are replaced by shovels, and wool skirts replace breezy summer dresses.  

Even my little tropical island does not seem to escape these changes—though we do not need snow shovels or wool scarves.  We inevitably end up experiencing the shift into the holidays all the same.  October not only brings Halloween for children but also Fantasy Fest for Key Westers, a 10 day period of parties, street fairs, contests and costumes.   It is a time when all of us Northern transplants, who experienced Halloween in costumes that went over or under winter coats, can finally embrace their inner child and let out all those repressed Halloween costumes from days past.  No longer does your cat tail have to peak out of back of your snow pants or must your bunny ears be stuck on top your stocking hat.  The result of a built-up desire to be free—to let your inner freak flag fly—explodes in a variety of barely there costumes, and sometimes the explosion is so big it ends only in body paint and pasties. 

I often pride myself on being a collected and a well-put together female.  I hope I present the image of a successful independent woman that perhaps has more knowledge then her age reveals.  So why is it that I love this time of year?  Why is it that I trade in an opportunity to wear the new killer jeans I have been waiting to display with those perfect Betsy Johnson wedges for a cheap cocktail dress and a plastic tiara?

While I have never gone to the extreme of painted public nudity, I have embraced my inner bumblebee, nurse, beauty queen, cheerleader, cowgirl, sailor and many more secret fantasies from Halloweens past.  Paired with a four-inch heel, that costume labeled as “naughty” or “sexy” suddenly becomes sophisticated in my eyes.  Besides, it’s still hot down here, and if my mother justified making me wear snow boots and sweatpants with my pirate outfit in 30 degrees, I can easily justify wearing stiletto heels and fishnet stockings with my bumblebee outfit in 78 degrees. 

Before judgment can be passed on us island people for our week-long celebration, which some call ‘debauchery’ or ‘sinful’, a thing or two should be considered.  Fantasy Fest falls as we enter the final month of hurricane season.  September marks the peak month of hurricane season and often brings the most tension-filled times of storm season.  As we end October and enter the final month, it naturally creates a desire to let out a little sigh of relief.   It is like a marathon runner hitting the final stretch; there is a sudden rush of energy as the end is in sight.  Our little island is often worn down from evacuations and close calls; money is tighter this time of year; and visitors are welcomed to our home like the prodigal son and showered with cheap beads.

 There is a strange attraction to the hum that starts softly as the first events of Fantasy Fest begin that grows louder through the week.  As tired as I may be, as busy as work has been, and as low as my checking account has dwindled, I cannot resist the pull that leads us all to the parade.  Like a child teetering on the age of being too old to trick- or-treat yet still wanting the bounty of candy, I always give in.  Despite my tired feet and the aches that remind I am not as young as used to be, I put on my cheerleader outfit, do my best spirit fingers, and flash my bloomers.

I know the Sunday after the big parade I will spend the day being lazy on my sofa and recovering from my parade daze.  By late afternoon it will be time to face the reality of being an adult—time to go the grocery store and clean the house.  I will pack up the pieces of costumes I assembled with such excitement and care.  As I select the best beads to add to my collection of Fantasy Fest treasures, I cannot help but feel grateful that I let the inner child out who still lives for playing dress up. 

Even in Key West the air turns a little cooler this time of year and the wind comes a little stronger off the water.  It is time to change the clocks back an hour, move the calendar ahead a month, and begin to think about stuffing turkeys, stockings and a million other things into the end of the year.  The costumes may go into the closet but the pictures remain on my refrigerator to remind me that every now and then it’s good to make believe, to dance in the streets and in general celebrate that I still I believe in the fantasy of life.

 

If God Was a Shoe Designer October 18, 2009

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:50 am
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And on the eighth day God created shoes… and it was fabulous! Just like these Marc by Marc Jacobs wonders. Photo by Jean Thornton

And on the eighth day God created shoes… and it was fabulous! Just like these Marc by Marc Jacobs wonders. Photo by Jean Thornton

Nowhere in scriptures does it say on what day God created shoes or shoe closets, but I cannot help but think of them as creations with the stamp of a higher power.  While some may look at the beaches, the mountains, the rolling fields and the many other natural wonders of the world, I look at the stilettos displayed in a storefront window and see little pointed miracles.  It leaves me wondering: If God was a shoe designer how might the world be different?

For my own personal gain, I would hope God might eliminate some pinches and pains for my feet.  I believe that if God was a shoe designer, there would never be blisters on my little toes.  Ankles would never be rubbed and callused.  The best shoes, while usually the most uncomfortable, would now be like walking in the clouds or strolling the streets of heaven. 

The freedom of having an infallible shoe designer would at last allow me to live in a world where loving shoes was accepted without bias or question.  To challenge my choice of footwear would be to the same as questioning my religious beliefs.  No longer would shoe girls be subjected to the judgment of others who believe that shoes are frivolous things or confines of society.  The taller the heel, the closer a shoe girl would be to God.                                               

While coveting your neighbor’s wife is still off limits, coveting her shoes might become the exception to the ‘coveting goods’ commandment.  A girl with a couple hundred pairs of heels would not be thought of as greedy but as celebrating examples of God’s good work.  Every brightly colored and bejeweled shoe would be a mini-cathedral.  The Corporal Works of Mercy would also include giving shoes to the unshod feet of the world.  Pencil-thin stilettos that seemed impossible to walk in without breaking an ankle would now be seen as a sign of devotion and a divine belief in God’s work. 

With God as the master designer of both our lives and our shoes there would be no reason to worry about getting caught in the rain while wearing satin pumps; surely the water would part before stainable shoes like the Red Sea before Moses.   Mother Teresa would be named a saint for her ability to teach the orphans of Calcutta how to walk in heels.  Manolo Blanhik would meet with the Pope to help shape the future of the Catholic Church and next winter’s line of booties.  Cardinals would not only wear red caps but also Christian Louboutin’s with matching red souls.  A platform heel would peek from under every nun’s habit. 

 Like the people God created, no two shoes would be alike… well maybe I should say no two pairs of shoes would be alike.   Every shoe would be created uniquely but equally with beautiful soles, just like the souls God gives each and every person.  All shoes would have a purpose and the chance to make the world different with its imprint.  While some shoes may be made to help us complete our daily outfits, other shoes would find glorious moments where they are meant to shine.

However!  Just like the world God has created for us, it would be up to us walking in those shoes to determine how they were treated.  Judging from the way we tend to treat people who are a bit different from us, I have a little concern.  Would we be blind enough to judge one shoe as better than another because it had a bow or a few rhinestones compared to those made of simple straps?  Could our tendency to place more worth on some of God’s creations lead to some shoes being tossed aside?  Would we test shoes still in production to eliminate those we have deemed to be flawed?

 After all, many souls are ignored, even when they reach out for help and love; perhaps some of God’s shoe soles would also be neglected for whatever reasons.  As much as I would like to believe that God’s shoes would be seen as a unifying force, I wonder if some shoes would get a higher value than others or be seen as more solid demonstrations of belief.  Even if God created shoes with fish in the heels, would they be viewed as less valuable than hand-stitched boots because they are different?  What if some pairs of shoes got rights that other pairs did not—like the right to share a shoe box—while others were discriminated against because of their partner choice?

 If God was a shoe designer my world may be a lot easier to explain; for surely my love of shoes would be simpler to explain.  I have to think that a little Divine intervention might occur when I saw a new pair that was a little too expensive for this mortal’s budget.  Yes, maybe my favorite black BCBG satin pumps wouldn’t pinch anymore if God had designed them.  But I am afraid that our world would not embrace all the shoe designs we were given, since we do not do a great job embracing all the people designs we’ve been given. 

Until the day I can convince the world of God’s great shoe design in each of us, all I can do for now is to keep my heart open to as many human designs and shoe designs as I can.

 

Calling All Creative Shoe Girls! October 13, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — theislandshoegirl @ 11:39 pm
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This socially minded Shoe Girl wants you to put on your best thinking shoes and enter the “You, Your Shoe and 72” Contest. Visit http://www.jimmychoo72.com to find out more:

THE COMPETITION
Jimmy Choo and Elton John AIDS Foundation have launched a photo competition to support the launch of Project PEP, a charity collection that donates 25% of sales to the Simelela Rape Centre in South Africa. The money goes towards providing the HIV-preventative treatment PEP (which must be taken within 72 hours of exposure to HIV) and counseling to victims of rape in South Africa, which has the highest count of rape in the world.

PRIZES
Those who submit their entries before 26th October will be shortlisted for an exhibition at the celebrity launch event at Selfridges London on 29th October. On this night Tamara Mellon will launch the ‘PEP-Up Shop’ at Selfridges, which will display the Project PEP collection and the selected photo entries for 72 hours thereafter.
The overall winners will be announced after the competition close on 7th December. On offer is a Grand Prize of 7 pairs of Jimmy Choo shoes and 2 handbags, plus over 100 exclusive Jimmy Choo prizes.

Show them you got soul and that you are not just another pair of pretty shoes… better yet show them you have soul and some pretty shoes!

 

Shoes that Pinch; Men that are Jerks October 10, 2009

Filed under: Love Me, Love My Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 11:32 pm
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These Jessica Simpson boots look fabulous, but can leave my toes pinched. Photo by Jean Thornton

These Jessica Simpson boots look fabulous, but can leave my toes pinched. Photo by Jean Thornton

You know those heels that you have that are absolute nightmares yet also an absolute dream come true all at the same time—the ones that are stunning and breath- taking; they catch the eye of every person in the room?  Ah, yes, the shoes that you say are for “special occasions” like that fancy dinner and then your open casket viewing since you will certainly die from the pain that will accompany them.  And if you do survive, you will spend the next 48 hours changing bandages and monitoring the giant blister that has engulfed all 5 toes (if some have not fallen off) on your right foot. You will offer your friends weak excuses such as you are doing laundry or taxes instead of admitting you have essentially hobbled yourself and can no longer leave your home. 

Yet, as soon as the pain is gone and you can walk again, you will not keep the promise to God you made when begging not to have the pinkie toenail fall off.  The promise that stated you will never wear those devil shoes another time, that you would bury them in ground blessed with holy water so they could never torture another woman again.  No, you will instead bask in the glory of being the woman with the most amazing shoes, and you will deny any pain or wounds left by these shoes now viewed as fabulous gifts from the heavens. 

So why…why wear the shoes that pinch and cripple your poor feet again and again?  It may be suggested by some that society has forced women into heels that can cripple various parts of our bodies, from our toes all the way up to our backs.  Others have determined that those dangerous shoes are ways to keep women weak, further promoting the idea of a damsel in distress waiting for rescue.   I have to disagree with these ideas and instead promote my own belief that women will sacrifice personal comfort for any form of vanity.  

It’s the same reason we date men that are jerks.  Just as sure as we will continuously desire the most painful yet beautiful shoes, we will also pick the biggest jerk yet most attractive men.  To be clear I am not talking about men that physically or emotionally hurt women, I am talking about the men that are so awful, whether self-centered, boring, or immature we know from the start there is no hope for this relationship.  Many women think they can change these men, but more often we just end up frustrated by our attraction to someone who is all wrong.

Suck it up, sister, and join the masses of women who have ignored their own gut feeling that he is all wrong yet you ride it out because he seems great at least “on the surface.”  And just like those blisters and the foot pain that you refuse to admit to, most likely you deny that any of those things bother you when talking with your friends.  Instead you claim that you actually enjoyed helping him tie fishing lines for his Sunday fishing trip as opposed to going to that nice dinner you were supposed to have that night. 

Often times we look back at these past dates from the other side of the fence and can clearly see the warning signs and flaws that most likely everyone else saw but was afraid to share with us.  There always seems to be that awkward moment about two months after a relationship ends when your friends start to mention that you were dating the world’s biggest jerk.  You almost feel like you had spinach in your teeth during a business lunch and only after the bill has been paid did anyone bother to tell you. 

We were lost in the moment, enjoying the glory of appearing to be in a fabulous and happy relationship despite the fact that we know this can only lead to incredible pain and a day of not getting out of bed.   Whether it is your toe slowly being crushed or the feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you not to believe him… you deny, deny, deny in order to keep up the charade.  After all, those shoes are Prada and everyone you know wants them, and he has a killer smile that every girl in the room wants to have flashed at her.  So surely neither those heels nor his smile can be bad.

After recovering from the broken heart and the bruising on your foot fades away, so does that memory of the jerk or the shoes that caused the pain.  Sooner or later our feet will be crammed into a pair of heels that—while fabulous—are still hurtful.  And unfortunately our hearts may be no better off; as soon as one dud of a man leaves another often follows.  It is then that we need our friends to point out to us the jerks who are lurking out there waiting to take the last one’s spot.    Hopefully, we will hear their warnings prior to making eye contact with the next Mr. Wrong and instead choose the good guy… if not the comfortable shoes. 

I am sorry to say there may not be much hope.  My closet is filled with amazingly beautiful yet painful shoes purchased in the aftermath of dating a disappointing guy.  And after all, deceivingly attractive men are often attracted to women in shoes that pinch; they know we enjoy the pain that comes with the looks.   And so the cycle continues.

 

Am I the Dumbing Down of America? October 4, 2009

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 10:08 am
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Every smart shoe girl keeps herself well read and well heeled, these Michael Kors are perfect for reaching those tall shelves at the library. Photo by Jean Thornton

Every smart shoe girl keeps herself well read and well heeled, these Michael Kors are perfect for reaching those tall shelves at the library. Photo by Jean Thornton

It’s the end of another grueling day; on my evening agenda is a sofa and reading a few chapters in A People’s History of the United States.  My scholarly endeavor gets derailed when I open my mailbox to find the latest monthly edition of Marie Claire.  Good-bye intellectual, hello trendy fashioneasta!   An evening of continued learning beyond my government-mandated public education goes out the window replaced with an opportunity to learn the best skin care plan at ages 20, 30, and 40!   My goodness, my skin is set for the thirty years!

I am taking beauty over brains: Instead of turning to the coarse pages of literature that, while longer lasting, are completely without pretty pictures, I am making the self-centered decision to choose glossy pages filled with fashion advice that is only good for the next 30 days or until next month’s edition arrives.   This could be the argument for Adult Attention Deficit Disorder, as many may not consider reading an article about environmentally friendly shoes lines as academically intriguing as the latest political dissection on the bestseller list.  Knowledge may be power, but who says that knowledge has to be academically based?  Can that knowledge be about Kate Spade shoes, Prada handbags and this season’s must-have bangle bracelets?

I like to consider myself a somewhat educated person, I have degrees from a state  University, that while not “Ivy League,” they certainly were not written in crayons.  I can spend hours debating current events, politics, trends in psychology and other topics worthy of cocktail party banter.  At the same time I can also argue the advantages of wearing high heels for a female’s good body posture that grabs a man’s attention while giving your calves the best workout available; the reoccurrence of shoulder pads and wide belts on Paris runways, and why wearing jeans shorts is wrong 80% of the time.  Yet, speak too confidently about the latter topics and suddenly you are not smart, you are narcissistic. 

This leaves me wondering if I am the dumbing down of America that our media and intellectual think tanks keep proclaiming.  Like global warming, the threat of a stupider American looms as the possible fate of future – or is it today’s — generations.  Celebrity gossip and the latest tax bill Congress is debating may not seem like they deserve equal thought, but in my world they do.  Clearly, I am not alone in this belief as the number of celebrity-based magazines such as Star or US Weekly, is far greater than the number of the political magazines lining our grocery store checkouts.  There has to be a reason that shiny pictures with captions about the possible plastic surgeries of A list stars are so popular in comparison to the magazines boosting headlines about the testimony given to the Senate Special Committee on Aging.   In truth it is easier to enjoy talk of fashion and who was thrown off the latest Hollywood movie set, over the landmine-filled political discussions that can easily go from polite chit chat to a heated argument before you can finish a glass of wine.  

At times I feel I must fight for the value of my interests against the value of other’s interest.  While on the surface, watching hours of the Style Network might be looked upon as less educational than watching the History Channel, I stand firm in asserting that I am actually learning more from watching a makeover marathon.  Almost everyone has been educated in the basics of history since grade school, yet how many classes taught you about coordinating accessories with a Calvin Klein suit?  By spending time watching hopeless fashion victims transformed into confident style icons I am only closing an educational loop hole.    

It’s true my coffee table is more likely to have headlines proclaiming spring’s must have sandals than a copy of Ulysses.  You may call it superficial; I call it a post-scholastic coma that limits how much more I can learn.  I am slowly building new synaptic bridges and returning to the world of well-written non-fiction.   The reality is it takes a balance of both fashion savvy and political insight to be a well-rounded person.  While a killer silver stiletto may be the perfect splash for your outfit, understanding the global effects of the U.S. economic decline is also in vogue. 

I put aside the guilt of delving into an article about how to get a sexy beach body instead of learning more about how the pilgrims exploited the Native Americans.  Hey, I already know enough to grasp that most of those Thanksgiving stories of peaceful coexistence are somewhat false.  But I don’t know how to tone my abs while at my desk!  At least I recognize this conundrum and internal struggle of how to best spend the time set aside for reading that will improve my world view, at least the world I can see from my sofa.   Sure, Glamour may not give me the wisdom of an educated voter picking my next governor, but it can help pick the right mascara and that’s a pretty vital decision too.

 

To Love a Shoe Girl September 27, 2009

Filed under: Love Me, Love My Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 11:00 am
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How can you not love a shoe girl in these Issac Mizarahi heels? Photo by Jean Thornton

How can you not love a shoe girl in these Issac Mizarahi heels? Photo by Jean Thornton

It can be nearly impossible to love a shoe girl in any form—be it a romantic love, a friendship love, or even a family love.  We are complicated creatures who have let our dreams run wild and had the good fortune (as well as the curse) of having those dreams come true.  We know that ankles can be adorned with rhinestones and bows.  We believe that toes should be wrapped in ribbons of satin and silk.  And we can be taken to new heights on delicate pedestals with pointed silver caps. 

Shoe girls believe in magic.  We think that mystery is a part of every day life and want to be just as mystifying as what the next shoe box holds.  The entire world becomes a shoe store to us; every where we look another example of imagination at work in ways we never thought could come to life.  Amazing feats of engineering that would baffle the architects of the greatest buildings of our time are standard expectations for a shoe girl. 

A shoe girl never stops searching for the next great shoe.  We fall silent in awe as we discover a new configuration of sole, arch, and heels that make us wonder just what next season’s pumps and platforms may bring.  The moment our minds seem satisfied with the shoe that fits, we are dreaming of the next, knowing it must be better since this one is more wonderful than the last.   We believe, like children believe in shooting stars and birthday wishes, that the next great shoe will come just as all the ones before it.

Our hearts are as big as our shoe closets and, just when we think it is full, we find a little more room.  Shoe girls remember their first pair of shoes just like they recall their second, the thirty-fifth, and the one hundred and seventeenth.  Like a faded corsage from a prom date, we keep the memories of what those shoes meant to us long after the event.  Whether the shoes were making us Cinderella, super heroes, or intelligent young minds accepting diplomas—each pair is a part of our own complicated history.

We are never satisfied with just being practical and often find that one pair is never enough… of course sometimes six pairs are not enough either!  It is easy to see us as self-centered or consumed with the joy of unwrapping a new pair of boots in early autumn.  But just the same we celebrate that every moment has a shoe and every shoe should have its moment.  Those new boots are destined for strolling through newly fallen leaves.  Strappy sandals are for summer weddings and dancing with good friends.  Sometimes a pair that celebrates the smallest accomplishment will lead to bigger moments in the future.

There are many things that could be criticized about a shoe girl, but there is usually much more that can be admired.  She may not always have the shoe or the answer for every situation; however, no one will try harder to find either one.  We are girls on a journey in stacked heels and spike stilettos; we are not always sure where our shoes are taking us, but we are blazing ahead at full tilt. 

Yes, a shoe girl can be hard to love.  But if you get the chance to love a shoe girl, she will probably love you just as passionately as she loves her shoes.  She will make sure you are protected from the elements and dangers of the world.  A shoe girl will believe in you whole-heartedly even when it seems your goals are impossible.  While others may think you have peaked, a good shoe girl will gently ask what’s next.  She will think of all the perfect moments you share and remember the imperfect ones with rose-colored glasses.

As frustrating and infuriating as a shoe girl may be to love, she is like that new pair of amazing heels that you just have to have even if she pinches a little and costs a lot.  All shoe girls know that pairs are a good thing and no single shoe can walk smoothly alone.  As much as we may try to do it all on our own, we understand the need for a match.  With that in mind we cautiously open our shoe closets and invite others along for the ride.  As difficult as we shoe girls are to love, it is even more impossible not to love us.

 

Clearance Rack Groceries September 20, 2009

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 11:46 am
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These Calvin Klein heels were a clearance rack find that are beyond fabulous. Photo Jean Thornton

These Calvin Klein heels were a clearance rack find that are beyond fabulous. Photo Jean Thornton

During a recent phone call to my cousin, I was detailing my latest handbag purchase from Coach.  It was my fourth bag in three months; all were purchased on sale, and all for prices so low I could not justify passing them by.  This is my secret shopping confessional, as an expensive new handbag has become a recession dirty deed.  My cousin not only understands my shopping guilt, she feels it too as she confesses her own recent Coach purchase.  Should I feel bad for buying this new piece of delightful arm candy—and the new wallet inside—while others are facing job loss? 

Later, I cruise through the grocery store with this new treasure at my side; I love it so much I won’t let it touch the grocery cart.  As I determine the best value jar of peanut butter, I catch myself weighing pennies verses name brands.  It occurs to me that I am willing to price cut my own diet and nutrition in exchange for labels and luxury when it comes to my fashion diet.  I cannot recall the last time I bought a steak, but I can tell you when that Dolce and Gabbana online sale starts! 

I am one of the many across the United States cutting back on groceries, cruising on almost-empty gas tanks, and sitting in the dark to try and pad my wallet (again it is a really cute Coach wallet).  I have always been a budget girl.  I like knowing exactly where my bottom line is and how to hold it.  I set saving goals each month and make sure to reach them.  My credit score is great and shocks most bankers who look from it to my shoes and try to figure out how my salary, those shoes, and that credit rating can coexist together.  Their face reads plaids mixed with animal print as they struggle to rationalize the combination.   

It is with great pride that I can point to what I have achieved financially as an example that anyone can do it.  I also have to give credit to my parents and their fiscally minded approach to parenting us.  But it does make me wonder: as girl raised without an unending cash flow from mom and dad, how did I end up with such designer tastes?

I am very sure that not everyone in the world immediately presses themselves against the Banana Republic store window and sings “Hello Dolly” to the new wrap dress displayed with a stunning gold heel.  I am basing this on the fact that I do not see anyone else except my partner in shopping crime suction-cupped with me, like matching Garfield cats in the back of a Buick.  Only after we start getting strange looks from other passers-by do we pry ourselves off and begin a debate over whether we can justify the purchase.  It usually ends with the same logic—wait for the clearance rack.

Once an item hits the clearance rack, all arguments for not buying it fly out the window.  You see, if you put “% off” next to anything, it suddenly becomes equally better by that same amount.  For example, the beautiful black patent leather Steve Madden heels I just bought at 70% off magically became 70% more fabulous than their original level of fabulousness.  That is why it is easier to walk away from 20% off that Ralph Lauren dress because the level of fabulous has not increased to the point of it being unbearable not to buy it!  A general rule of thumb is that anything over 60% off is unstoppable and credit cards need to be applied.

So my proposal is that the rest of the retail world take a clue from sample sales and knock down their prices.  When the stock market tumbles, do not proclaim it a bad day; instead announce that Wall Street is having a mid-season sale with prices so low you would be a fool to walk away.  Perhaps a buy two mutual funds, get the third for free (of equal or lesser value of course).  Soon the investment report will be as exciting as the celebrity gossip update when you’re checking out the latest craze… overseas’ markets!

It’s all about how you market the markdown that makes those items fly off the shelf.  Are those fresh fruits and vegetables about to spoil?  I say it’s a “make room for new produce” sale.  Mark those slightly squishy Squashes down and watch those deals walk out the door!   Buy in the off-season for great savings; it’s like buying a bathing suit in December for next summer’s pool days.   So apply the same logic and stock up on pumpkin filling in July for next Thanksgiving’s pie.  If this trend catches on, maybe we can get the electric company to jump on the BOGO (Buy One, Get One) band wagon!  Who would not love to get July’s electric bill for free when cranking up the AC to beat the summer heat?

Let’s face it, women will never give up their designer names and luxurious leather soles for a gallon of milk; but if that milk is part of the grocery red line clearance section, you just might be able to justify purchasing both.  Just because the budget is a little tighter does not mean that you have to cut all the fun from life or all the nutrition from your diet.  The key is shopping smarter and embracing the discounts as they come along.  Hey, even my name-brand pure breed Jack Russell dog was bought on discount from the local animal shelter; sure he is slightly used but every bit as loveable.

 

Shoe Girl Meets Island September 13, 2009

Filed under: Its All About the Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 11:07 am
How does a shoe girl balance island living in a pair of Manolos? One step at a time. Photo by Jean Thornton

How does a shoe girl balance island living in a pair of Manolos? One step at a time. Photo by Jean Thornton

Once upon a time, in the far, far away land of Ohio, the Island Shoe Girl began her life in the most ordinary of ways.   With 10 toes and 10 fingers, I was just your average baby girl for the first few years.  It wasn’t until about the age of three that I became a shoe girl when my Mom bought me a pair of black patent leather Mary Jane shoes.   Paired with my lacy ankle socks I thought I had found the perfect style and I was in love with my look.  That very same day I saw the ad in the Sunday paper showing white patent leather Mary Jane shoes!  I fell in love for the SECOND time in my short life, and I immediately began to justify the need for a pair in each color, convinced my three year old life would be tragic without them.  My parents gave in and a shoe girl was born. 

As I grew, so did my love of shoes and the amount of time spent admiring their graceful forms in fashion magazines.  From Jellies in every color to pairs of kitten heels, the more mature I got, the more mature the shoes got.  Silver tap shoes for recitals were replaced by high heels for high school dances.  I endured a painful big toe reconstruction surgery and months on crutches for the joy of cramming my foot into closed toe pumps!  By the time college came around, my school girl crush on shoes had blossomed into a love affair that required a shelving system.  While studying the human mind and its ability to form addictions in graduate school I was also beginning to understand my own shoe addiction and what it was about those fabulous heels that brought on must-have urges to buy more and more shoes. 

I discovered at an early age that shoes are just simply shoes for countless people; they go on feet and protect toes from the outside world.  Many prefer them to be low to the ground and require comfort in their fit.  For me shoes are the perfect mix of fantasy and reality, an impractical yet vital need at the same time. When a person sees an amazingly perfect pencil thin stiletto it baffles their mind to understand how anyone can walk on them.  And it rightfully should baffle their minds!  It takes a skill and grace that requires years to master completely.  If it is mastered, the image of a woman in stunning heels is one of true mystique and wonder.  Yes, it is this thought makes my heart melt when I dream of the day when the red soles of Christian Louboutin booties are under my feet. 

 While I was falling in love with shoes I was also coming to the sad realization that I would have to pay for these fabulous creations.  And that is when I feel in love with another mix of fantasy and reality—Key West, Florida.    A strange twist of internet fate brought my well-heeled feet to an island 1400 miles away from the only streets they had ever known in Ohio and introduced them to the challenge of walking in sand.     A funny thing happened as I was shaking the sand out of my pumps; I discovered that as much as I loved shoes, I also loved helping others.  An unexpected internship at a homeless shelter had a girl who mainly noticed shoe soles taking a hard look at human souls. Something clicked and I knew that this was the future for me and my shoes.  So without much hesitation I moved away from the malls and shoe stores of Ohio to the small shops and flip flop vendors of Key West.                                                                          

Just like the mystery of shoes, my life became a jumble of costumes and make-believe in everyday events.  Key West can be viewed as paradise found, yet so many others have lost themselves and find the streets, beaches and mangroves as their homes.  Helping the homeless maybe an admirable life choice, but accomplishing it in designer heels creates a different spin on my Mother Teresa ways.  I believe that while looking for the beauty of human souls, you can also share the beauty of luxury soles. 

And that is how a shoe girl found a life on an island.  But just because you love shoes and you live on an island that does not necessarily make you The Island Shoe Girl.  No, that title has another story behind it and it has just as much fantasy and reality involved.  But it all began with a perfectly normal little girl who fell in love with two pairs of shoes in the same day and kept right on going.

 

What A Shoe Girl Wants September 6, 2009

Filed under: Its All About the Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 11:36 am
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The ultiment fun girl Betsy Johnson puts a little fun in my step with these fabulous cherry patch-work wedges.

The absolute fun girl Betsy Johnson puts a little fun in my step with these fabulous cherry patch-work wedges. Photo by Jean Thornton

In 1984 I heard some of the most life shaping words, “Girls just want to have fun,” when Cyndi Lauper danced across my parents’ television with orange hair and a flare for wild fashion.  I was at the tender age of three and danced along with her in my mom’s heels, a leotard, sunglasses, and panties with ruffles on the butt while drinking juice from a wine glass.  I was not your typical child and I was learning not from PBS but from MTV.  The lesson I was learning was a simple one: girls just want to have fun.  And I was having fun.  I was “working” half days at preschool, going shopping with my mom, and taking my favorite stuffed animals with me wherever I went. 

I was a shoe girl from the start, requesting a pair of patent leather Mary Jane’s in every color as soon as I could speak.  By the time my baby teeth were falling out I had moved past the tooth fairy and started negotiating new Jelly shoes and other fashionable items that cost more than a quarter in exchange for a front tooth.  My poor mom was once told by my ballet instructor that I should be put in dance class with some faster moves…I was shaking my butt too much for the music that accompanied the graceful non-bouncing dance style.  It was a bad sign of things to come in my future.

More than two decades later not much has changed.  Cyndi Lauper is on my MP3 player and I still have ruffles on my butt; only now I am in my own heels and I drink wine from those elegant glasses.  I still try to negotiate shopping trips from my dad, although his resistance has grown stronger.  I am pretty sure I can still re-enact any Madonna video from the 80’s.  And I can still say I am having fun. 

To me it all seems pretty clear cut what most girls and I want out of life.  We want to have fun.  We want to shake our butts a little.  We want to wear lacy socks and actually I am kind of hoping the lacy headband bow comes back.  I know I cannot speak for every female, but I am sure most would agree it is just that simple.  Girls just want to have fun.

As basic as it seems, I still find myself banging my head against the figurative wall when it comes to getting guys to understand this simple notion.  Yes, there are very complicated women out there screwing it up for the rest of us, but sometimes I think men are making it harder than it has to be.  Look at the guy who said, “He’s just not that into you.”  Simple, right?  Wrong.  It must be more complicated because he has written a book, had a television talk show, and even a movie spun out of it!  I say honest things all day long and all I get is an understanding smile. 

So let me break it down for all of the guys out there who are convinced that dating has to be difficult.  Just let her have fun.   There!  It’s that simple, not even enough for a movie trailer let alone a full-length feature.  

Perhaps I should expand slightly.   I do not need fancy dinners or events; in fact, that can be kind of boring and put too much pressure on anyone to “fit in” or be equally fancy.  Sitting in a silent restaurant with the sinking suspicion that the servers are listening in to our conversation kills the romance quickly.  As a girl who over dresses for every event, I have just as much fun dressing up for the bar as I do for an over-the-top display.    Seriously, take me and my heels out to the bar any night of the week.  Not the fancy one, the one with a barrel full of peanuts and a popcorn machine with a questionable history of cleanliness.  I want to sit at the bar and play the jukebox or at least be able to bribe the bartender to turn the radio to my favorite station.  Give me a long neck bottle so I can peel off the label.  I do not want to pair wines with a main course or eat a four-course meal that consists of two slices of tomato and a piece of cheese.  I am hungry; feed me real food! 

The truth of the situation is that every girl likes a night where she is treated like a princess and made to feel like a lady, but those nights are not reality.  Living in fantasies can only last so long and often leaves you wanting to get back to a more down-to-earth style of life.  The reality is that, like everyone else, a girl needs to relax sometimes and just be part of the crowd.  She wants to toss peanut shells on the floor and maybe even play a game of dice.  She just wants to have fun.

After all, Cyndi Lauper may have summed it up best when she said, “Some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world.  I want to be the one to walk in the sun.  Girls they want to have fun.”  Hey, we are all at our best when surrounded by friends.  I may only be a star with my friends but it’s where I shine the brightest because I can truly be myself and have fun.  Any guy who wants this shoe girl can not be afraid to share my world and hopefully walk in the sun with me.

At the end of the day I am still the girl dancing in high heels who shakes her butt a little too much.  But at least I am finding what I want and that is to have fun.  And it truly is just that simple.