The Island Shoe Girl's Blog

Where shoes meet sand…

PARTNERING UP February 7, 2010

Filed under: Love Me, Love My Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:51 am
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These BCBG heels are the perfect partners for my feet! Photo by Jean Thornton

It’s hard to be a single person.  The partner idea has been pounded into our heads since birth.  As soon as a child enters the world, the new parents envision his or her future and much of this future has a partner in the picture.  From the partner you share your crayons with to your lab partner, the message is clear.  Nothing strikes more fear in your heart then the phrase “partner up”—whether for gym class or to give a presentation—you have to commit to this other person who will now become half of you.  

Marriage is the ultimate “partner up” of life.  The natural progression is one that involves the acceptance of a permanent partner.  No one wants to think about the inevitable reality that our parents will leave us.  Our siblings will develop their own separate lives and families.  So it is undeniable that there is pressure to find that partner before it’s too late and we are left holding the bag alone.  But what do you do when you do not have a partner?

Since there is such great pressure to find this partner, I can only assume that the benefits of this partner must be numerous.  As a single person my successes and my failures are my own and mine alone.  There is a rush of pride I feel when I achieve a success, often followed by a let down when there is no one to share in my happiness.  Buying my first home was an amazing step in my life; however, dragging all those boxes in by myself was not so amazing.  When I was wrestling my new Pier One console table out of its box that could have been described as the ultimate death match, that sense of joy dwindled.  I have heard some friends and family talk about popping bottles of champagne when unlocking the door as homeowners; all I popped was Tylenol for aching muscles.  This was compounded by the look people gave me when I said I bought a home…alone… without a man… without help from dad… and I was living in it alone.  It was like saying I did not need the sun.  One person said what a great catch I was for a guy since I now had property attached to me.  Throw in two donkeys and I am one hot piece of ass! 

Even in my education and career, I find this push for a partner.  A professor whom I respect greatly gave me one of the biggest boosts of my academic life when he nominated me for a prestigious award.  He encouraged me to continue my education past my master’s degree and pursue a doctorate.  As I explained my desire to strike out into the world and gain a better understanding of what life was, he nodded with sincerity.  He understood the urge to learn life lessons from living.  He then said when I was married and had babies I could go back to school.  I felt like I had been pushed down an ivory tower.  I wanted to pick up my pots and pans and go home. 

So I go home to my condo I own alone.  To the dog and cat I alone walk and feed.  I open the bills addressed only to me and write the checks that come only from my checking account.  I control the remote!  That’s right whether I want to watch hours of Bravo or Glen Beck, I am an independent woman when it comes to my television viewing.  Unfortunately E-harmony, Match.com and a million other dating services are bombarding me.  All I need to find love is a lap top, wi-fi, and a team of experts to match me with somebody in St. Louis. 

Do I believe that you have to have a partner to be in happy in life?  Probably not.  Do I believe it makes life easier to have a partner?  Some days it might; some days it might not.  Do I believe that as long as I am not with a partner that I will be questioned as to where that partner is? Ugh…yes.  Do I think married girls still deal with the partner question? Definitely. 

It comes down to that undeniable push.  We are told to find that partner, but once it is found I can only assume there is some challenge to maintaining the partner balance. Even crayon partners sometimes hogged the blue crayon; surely there must be similar challenges when it comes to sharing in a marriage.  So perhaps the best advice to give on the partner hunt is this: there are times in life when everyone longs for a partner and there are times in life when everyone longs to be alone.  Single or partnered up, you will face both times.

 

The Modern Day Wonder Women January 31, 2010

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:43 am
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Here I come to save the day with the my Steve Madden Vippers. Photo by Jean Thornton.

The recent introduction of a Blackberry into my life has made me contemplate how Wonder Woman would have survived in our world of constant connections.  What began as a way to get the internet without an expensive connection and to better manage my work day and email inbox without being tied to my desk has suddenly turned into a struggle between woman and technology.  The constant calls, emails, and text messaging has made me feel like some days the requests for help never end and I am pathetic excuse for a super hero in stilettos. 

What is a girl to do but buy some new shoes and try to not to scream, especially if she has no clue which button actually plays the voice mail but gets five different beeps and buzzes to tell her she has a voicemail.  As I think about the two year commitment I have made to this new piece of technology and an upgraded coverage plan through my cell phone provider, I cannot help but acquire a whole new level of respect for Wonder Woman and her shiny red boots.  Sure I have a lot of great boots and many, many amazing shoes, but Wonder Woman had something more—maybe just time management and the ability to change clothing in the span of a thunderclap.

I consider myself a person who operates well under stress, but I could use a few pointers and perhaps a little ‘swing’ from the Lasso of Truth.  Wonder Woman, like all of us at the root of it, was just a woman—a human being.  Just like any another shoe girl (or shoe guy) she put her boots on one at a time and most likely her indestructible bracelets too. (Do you think those come in platinum also?)  So how did the unassuming Diane Prince transform into Wonder Woman and save the day time and time again while I struggle just to get the dog walked some nights?

Yes, Wonder Woman did have an invisible plane that was always on stand-by without the requirements of airport security.  And she had that super-fabulous pair of running shoes known as the “Sandals of Hermes”.  (And if those are anything like a Hermès bag, I want on the supply list even if they are for running!)  I am only on a small island and I have a hard time zooming from one end to the other in my 1997 Honda Accord to get to the next meeting on time.  No doubt I could use a little assistance from a superbly accessorized Super Hero to solve the problems in my small portion of the world. 

As I try to multi-task my way through another 24 hours trying to simultaneously update my Facebook status, return a multitude of calls, and iron my blouse, I cannot help but think that maybe Wonder Woman would feel as overwhelmed as I do if she had to operate these tiny buttons too.  Let’s remember that Wonder Woman lived in a time of phone booths and party lines as opposed to Instant Messaging and Skype Video connections.  While it is true Wonder Woman was fighting Nazis, she never had to manage three email accounts and download her shoe blog!

When it comes right down to it Wonder Woman was just another single girl trying to save a little part of the world each day in great boots—and maybe even find a little time for a date and glass of wine too.  And while she might have been a super hero raised by Amazon women, in the end she was a woman with a lot to do and some fabulous shoes, which really makes her just like me and many others.  I may not have the Lasso of Truth to hold others accountable, and my favorite bracelet is a simple silver bangle that probably cannot block bullets and laser beams, but that doesn’t mean I still cannot answer the call for help or save the day if only for just a few minutes or in a small place. 

My own private, invisible jet may be preferable to slipping off my heels for airport security…but then again who’s to say those aren’t Super Power Stilettos?  A girl can dream right?

 

3 Rules of Employment January 24, 2010

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:26 am
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The first step towards a successful career should be taken with fantastic shoes. Photo by Jean Thornton.

When toilets clog, soap dispenser run empty and trash cans overflow, I am the one who hears the cries of those in need of a square of Charmin and answers with the solution to any your bathroom dilemmas.  It may seem odd that a girl who wears $200 Michael Kors’ four-inch wedge tennis shoes with gold trim would freely saunter into a ladies room with a bottle of disinfectant in my left hand and plunger slung over right shoulder.  I have perfected the art of toilet unclogging regardless of how gross it is.  Restaurant patrons turn up their noses and watch in awe as my perfectly manicured nails grip the yellow handle of my faithful plunger.  Within in minutes water is flowing freely in all three stalls and I am the Wonder Woman of modern plumbing problems. 

After watching my latest ‘battle with the bowl’, a customer gives me a sympathetic smile and says, “I bet you hate this part of your job.”  Without hesitation I answer with my best life rule, “Never be too good to use a plunger.”  I triumphantly smash the paper towels deeper in the trash can with my plunger and swing it back over my shoulder, calling out a final, “enjoy your night,” as I exit the bathroom.  I am not a superhero; I simply follow the rules of job success I have learned to respect in all of my various employment roles. 

As a teenager it was changing diapers, in college it was smelly summer campers, and now as an adult, my college education has not relieved me from some of the less enjoyable tasks of life.  No level of education or seniority has given me the golden ticket that allows me to pass off unpleasant jobs to others.  As one might imagine, working with the homeless can sometimes lead to conversations about less enjoyable topics with those in desperate need of a shower.  Thankfully, I was given a few good work rules that keep me humble, employed, and in my place, even when that place means in a flooded dorm room with a water vacuum.   

My father taught me early on that Custodians and Secretaries run every office; they have the keys to everything and the means to make any complication disappear.  Custodians and Secretaries are like the office mafia; you must come to an understanding of their power.  This rule has kept my office trash empty and my coffee safe to drink.  A sincere compliment and a box of doughnuts goes all long way to getting that report finished when your printer jams. 

The next rule is a critical one when supervising another employee: lead by example not by exemption.  This protects them and you.  If you are unwilling to perform a dirty deed as a supervisor, how can you expect a less experienced employee to do it?  And if that less experienced—and most likely lesser paid—employee can do what you can not or will not do, you may soon be asking them to carry your paper box of personal items out the door as your last act as supervisor. 

This brings me to my rule of toilet repair: never be too good to use a toilet plunger.  When a person reaches a place where he or she no longer feels able to face this task, that person is in danger of forgetting that everyone is capable of creating that same mess.  In order to truly make others feel comfortable we have to face challenges of a less pleasurable nature and we have to remember the disasters of our own making.  Yes, once we are too good for the toilet plunger we are only steps away from the self-imposed ignorance that leads to true narcissism.  I plan to never achieve the type of success that makes me too good to use a toilet plunger…but it would be nice if my plunger had a gold-plated handle and maybe came with a matching tennis bracelet.

While these rules may seem simple and basic to many, think of the hoards of unemployed and job searching souls looking for employment.  Have they turned down a position because it seemed to “beneath them” or because they told themselves or allowed others to them they were “over qualified,” which is a lot like having too much money.  Yes, my rules are common sense but they are the key to being successfully employed.  So the next time you pass by the invisible custodian or forget who drops that mail on your desk, just remember you can be just as invisible and just as forgotten.  My toilet plunging skills may not be as impressive as an MBA, but until your MBA can unclog the toilet, step aside for the heroine of the flush.

 

Saved By the Bell Therapy January 17, 2010

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:31 am
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These Nine West heels are perfect for hanging at the Max, going to the big game, or just watching Saved by The Bell. Photo by Jean Thornton.

As another weekday morning dawns, alarm clocks buzz, showers spray, and across the country countless workers begin Saved By The Bell therapy.  No, this is not a new type of yoga or a different take on Pavlov’s classically conditioned dog; it is a throw back to the memories of our adolescent years and our old television friends from fictional Bayside High: trouble maker Zack Morris, head cheerleader Kelly Kapowski, athletic A.C. Slater, geeky Samuel “Screech” Powers, brainy Jessie Spano and stylish Lisa Turtle.   Let us not forget America’s favorite bumbling principal, Mr. Belding.  It doesn’t mater where you went to high school; everyone is a Bayside Tiger deep down inside. 

Monday thru Friday a daily class reunion is held and every adult under the age of 40 wants to attend.  TBS provides the wary professionals of the world with an alternative to the network morning news shows and the chatter on the basic cable’s 24 hour news stations.  It is not that these flashback viewers are uncaring about the world news; most of them are living that news.  They fear job loss, feel the pinch of the recession, and worry about foreclosure and/or the high costs of health care.   With all of these happy thoughts running through their heads, it is no wonder that they would rather escape to back to the days when our biggest worry was winning the volleyball tournament at the Malibu Sands Beach Club.

Remember the days when Zack and A.C. battled it out for the affections of Kelly and your biggest worry was rival Valley High School bringing in a Russian Chess champion to steal the title from Screech?  The days when The Max was the coolest restaurant in town and also where Casey Kasem held a dance contest.  You dreamed of having a cell phone like Zack’s, which was the size of a small briefcase.  Yes, there were difficult times, like when Jesse got hooked on caffeine pills or Kelly dumped Zack for the new college-guy manager at The Max.  Whether the problem was getting caught with fake I.D.s or discovering the new girl at the mall was actually homeless, the predicament could always be solved with one of Zack’s crazy schemes.

Depending on your age, you may have a preference for a certain period of Saved By The Bell—maybe the early years when Zack, Screech, and Lisa were lowly seventh graders in Miss Bliss’s history class.  By far the most popular span was during the high school years with all the joys of dating, running teen help lines and an endless stream of teen drama.   Later, it was onto Saved By The Bell: The College Years with new friends in co-ed dorm rooms, a couple of dates with a professor and even a rave.  Like all good sitcoms it ended with a TV movie special where the whole gang heads to Vegas for Zack and Kelly’s wedding.

Just like the rest of us, our friends at Bayside High school grew up and became adults too.  The push for an actual reunion show became a pop culture hot button issue last year; not so much to see the actors again, but to see the characters they portrayed.  I like to think that Zack and Kelly are still together; they probably have twin girls and a rascal of a little boy.  I imagine A.C. is divorced from his first wife, and Jessie would be Obama’s choice for the Supreme Court Justice spot.  Lisa is the chief editor at a fashion magazine and Screech is either a science teacher at Bayside or is a porn star.  Today, our friends from Bayside are probably a lot like we are.  They wake up and get ready for work, walk the dog, grab a quick breakfast and worry about their 401ks.

All of them, like us, long for a time when things were simpler, when our team always won the big game on Friday nights, there was a dance every weekend and all our problems could be solved by a long talk with the principal, usually within a half hour.  We now live in a world where the morning news shows are often riddled with declining home values and political scandals—which makes it nice to spend part of our morning with the gang from Bayside High and to be truly Saved By the Bell from the real world.

 

The Straying Shoe Girl January 10, 2010

Filed under: Love Me, Love My Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:01 am
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These Steve Madden's were love at first sight... of course so were the other 3 pairs I bought too. Photo by Jean Thornton.

Shoe monogamy may not be a hot topic, but recent celebrity scandals have prompted me to think a little a bit about the wandering eye I have when it comes to my true love—shoes.  No public figure can completely escape the glare of the magnifying glass that those with more private and less exciting lives tend to apply.  And those outsider views also bring a self-imposed right to debate and determine what they judge to be a fitting punishment.  While The Island Shoe Girl lives a pretty anonymous life (okay I am not shy when it comes to publicity), I cannot help but turn my own critical, know-it-all eye on myself and my inability to stay faithful to one shoe designer, let alone one shoe.

When it comes to personal relationships I can proudly say I have never betrayed the trust of another, but when it comes to shoes, my feet are pretty much the biggest ‘toe whores’ you can find.  Sometimes I am in and out of several pairs a day, loving them and then leaving them back in the shoe closet as quickly as I can slip them on and off.  Yes, one minute open-toe pumps the next knee-high boots with zippers that twist around my calf.  It’s not that I don’t love the little soles attached to each pair; in fact, I may love them all too much.  I simply have a big heart and, while my shoe closet does not match my heart size, I always find a little more room for the next pair. 

I honestly do fall in love with shoes; many times I have declared a pair the ultimate accomplishment in shoes.  Yet, as soon as the scuffs are on the soles and the design has been admired by others, my mind begins to think of what other shoes may be out there.  Could a pair of Kate Spade suede stilettos be out there waiting for me tomorrow, or should I stop with the Michael Kors’ platforms under toe today?  The curiosity of what waits for me beneath the next shoe box lid keeps me straying from one pair to another. 

I can understand when wandering eyes prowl the shoe section despite having the support of fabulous footwear under their legs.  I myself have cruised the displays of fanciful shoes, fully aware that back home another pair waits for me faithfully, never thinking of another foot.  Like a john searching for a cheap thrill, what I have at home in my shoe closet is never enough to appease my wondering mind.  My addiction, however, may only come with hefty credit card bills and another pair of strappy black sandals—the addictions that break the hearts, souls, and trust of people usually carry far more damaging scars.  

If my shoes could talk they probably could tell a few tales I don’t want out there…especially the ones that I wore during the last Fantasy Fest!   If there is a shoe gossip fest behind my closet door, I hope the older shoes are breaking it gently to the new shoes.  I can see it now—the Betsy Johnson silver maryjane’s calmly explain to the Juicy Couture pumps that I won’t be calling on either of them tonight.  This leads me to wonder if my shoes tell themselves the same things “the other women” frequently say in the aftermath, “she told me she loved me,” or “when she picked me up she said I was different from all the others.”

Perhaps it would be wise for me and others to re-examine our own morals and ethics before throwing judgment at the feet of those who may remain shoe faithful but fail in other areas.  After all, if life has taught this shoe girl one thing it’s that the other shoe is always waiting to drop.  If you are not careful it could land on your own toe with quite a thud.

My poor shoes might be just as misguided by my wandering toes as those who fall for people who have wandering hearts and eyes.  Shoe games surely are not as hurtful as games played with the heart.  My only solace is that I have never promised a single shoe my constant devotion.  I admit outright what I am.  Could there be a day when my feet belong to one pair of shoes?  Possibly, but I wouldn’t place any bets

 

Good Shoes for a Good Cause! January 7, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — theislandshoegirl @ 12:12 pm
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The Island Shoe Girl is giving big thumbs and heels up to Payless Shoes and their Payless Shoes 4 Kids program which donated $1.2 million worth of shoes to children through 700 nonprofits, including the Florida Keys Outreach Coalition in Key West. Way to go Payless!

 

I Can Drive in Platforms January 3, 2010

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:03 am
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It takes patience and great shoes, like these Michael Kors' platforms to navigate life. Photo by Jean Thornton.

On a Sunday afternoon I catch myself giving a self-imposed evaluation of what have I learned lately.  The results are frightening.  As an adult my self-education is more disappointing than my Spanish grades were in high school.  There are many familiar old areas of failure: my checkbook shows that my math skills have remained stalled as there is a general disagreement between the bank’s definition of “balanced” and my own.  When it comes to decimal points, it is best to let someone else move those annoying little dots. 

My knowledge of sports has actually become worse during recent years.  It could be that the island I live on is generally not interested in sporting events.  On a college football Saturday I watch “fans” of the competing teams take cigarette breaks during the game outside the local sports bar, dressed in jerseys, knee high stripped socks, and hats done in jarring team colors.  I have never understood how fans with horribly tacky fashion make a player compete better. 

As to the skills pressed upon me in Home Economics, such as maintaining a cleaning “schedule” I can move my housekeeping skills into the “needs improvement” column of my adult report card.  In the realm of cooking, being a student of Ohio cuisine enables me to make a meal based around a Crockpot and cream of mushroom soup in my sleep or a cheesecake that would make Jenny Craig cry.  But beyond that my skills are limited.  Give me a filet of fish and I would not have clue what to do with it.  It’s like that old saying, “Give a shoe girl a fish; she’ll give you a dirty look.  Teach a shoe girl to fish; she’ll break your pole.”

Despite my many inadequacies, I can list a few things where I excel.  I can multitask—wrangling my Jack Russell’s leash with one hand while talking on the cell phone during a walk.  I cannot pair wines to multi-course meals, but I can make witty banter over cosmos with a stranger just as easily as I can with a close friend.   I can not remember the name of my insurance company, but I can tell you the last ten pairs of heels I bought.  Bring your shoe troubles to me and I can show you how a silver stiletto can be the splash your outfit needs! 

 And I can drive in platforms!  Laugh if you want at this talent, but strap a block of wood to your feet and see how quickly you jump the curb or worse yet, the bumper of another car.  I am a master of the road in platforms; I know when to apply less to the gas or more to the brakes.  I can adjust the slant of my foot without awkwardness or discomfort.  While some complain about moving their seat the slightest bit, it is just part of driving with the multitude of shoes that find their way onto my feet.  

When you think about it, driving in platforms is a lot like life—sometimes you have to adjust the amount of pressure applied to a situation.  Sometimes you have to give yourself a little more room for the sake of safety.  You always have to wear your safety belt and be prepared for a sudden stop or to pull over and park yourself when you need a rest.  If you can parallel park in platforms, you can handle just about any maneuver that life gives you.  

Maybe knowing how to drive in platforms is the key knowing how to handle the many obstacles that present themselves in adult life.  While maneuvering the many types of relationship roadblocks may not be something taught in high school courses, it could be said driving in platforms has taught me how to manage my love affair with shoes and the reality of life.  Sometimes to survive the road trip of love you have to pull over and take a break or take your foot of the acceleration, after enjoying the view from slow drives are half the fun—how can you window shop if you are speeding by.  And while being able to drive in platforms may not save me from all the heart ache or blisters, it certainly has made me appreciate the passengers I travel with. 

 There are many things I am still trying to learn.   One day my bank and I will actually agree on my checking balance; some day I will learn how to cook something other than spaghetti, I will not go as far as saying I will support a sporting team with bad fashion choices.   But I don’t fear learning new things; if I can learn to drive in platforms then maybe I shouldn’t give up on mastering long division just yet.

 

Rest Your Heels December 27, 2009

Filed under: Its All About the Shoes, Uncategorized — theislandshoegirl @ 10:07 am
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The Island Shoe Girl is up North for the holidays, so she is posting a favorite and spending time with her family…okay she is actually busy buying shoes and shopping the after-Christmas sales!  Enjoy your loved ones- both people and shoes, The Island Shoe Girl will be back next week with a new blog and many, many, many new shoes!

The Island Shoe Girl is resting her heels this week...fabulous Michael Kors heels. Photo by Jean Thornton.

I Shoe Good

There are two types of women in the world: those who shoe and those who don’t.  Of course every woman owns some type of shoe; it is rare to see a woman roaming barefoot in modern day society.  But here I refer to shoe as a verb, defined as “an unstoppable urge which must be acted upon immediately to buy, preserve and cherish shoes”.  Those who don’t shoe should just stop reading now.

If you are not sure if you shoe or not, ask yourself how many shoes you have in your closet.  If your number is less than five and you are not actively dividing your inventory into categories such as heels, boots, flats, sandals and athletic but instead are thinking of piles such as black, brown, blue and house slipper…you do not shoe.

However!  If you’re still debating whether you should start with designers and now are imagining a whole organization system for your shoe closet…you shoe!  You shoe so good that when asked your shoe size you respond with, “doesn’t matter, I will get my feet in there!”  You shoe so good, that you have photos of every pair stored in a fire proof box at a local bank for insurance maters.  Right now just the thought of shoes makes your arches long for the feel of a six-inch Italian-made stiletto.  Oh baby! You shoe good!

I like to think that I shoe pretty good myself, all things considered.  See I am an Island Shoe Girl, a transplant from a land of malls and weekend sales.  A hard day at work or a horrific final term paper in grad school sent me straight to my comfort zone, shoe stores.  My life has roughly three loves; my family, helping others and shoes.  My job brought me to Key West, Fl, where I work as a case manager at homeless shelter, and, for the record, I love this job and the island it has brought me to.  I love my family, but distance is nothing new as my brothers have also branched out across the East Coast.  But it’s a real struggle living over 140 miles away from the continental United States and a Neiman Marcus shoe department.

These days the best I can hope is that a pair of Calvin Klein pumps work their way into our local re-sale warehouse, nothing is sadder than a designer heel with the tell-tale sign of warehouse sales: the re-sale black mark across the bottom so that when you casually cross your legs, the whole world knows those shoes came without a box.  On the plus side, the price is almost always a steal which eases the pain of not having the shoe buying experience that would generally come along with a designer label.

Yes, there is the online dating version of shoe shopping through name brand websites and eBay.  Yes, I have had some success in these avenues; but much like the commercials promoting endless love with only a few clicks, you know it’s never as good a story as when it happens in person.

Certainly it is hard to get the perfect job, the perfect family connection, and the perfect shoes all in one locale that does not permit snow.  So yes, I shop the re-sale warehouse and internet.  Thankfully, after a year and half of being without a “shoe store” other then Payless, a Nine West Factory store opened which eased the pain a little.  While anxiously awaiting its opening, I would press my face against the store front windows like a child trying to peek into Santa’s Workshop to see what delights may be arriving.

To be fair there are “other” shoe stores—the previously-mentioned Payless, an athletic shoe store, and numerous flip flop and sandals shops, including places that sell the dreaded blob of plastic – Crocs.  While I am sure that there is nothing wrong with the shoes sold at these outlets, they are just not for me.  Like the perfect on paper guy there is no thrill

I can never walk away from a good deal on shoes or even an average deal…let’s be honest you have to drag me away kicking and screaming from any shoes even full price.  Which makes the trips to real malls and real shoe stores outside of the Florida Keys all the more dangerous—especially when your friend supposedly providing the voice of reason wears the same size and whispers “do it” behind your shoulder. If my guardian angel does have a voice, it is muffled by her shrieks of joy at seeing a Manolo Blanhik  strappy  heel on the clearance rack.  Choirs from the Heavens belt out the chorus of “Rich Girl” by Gwen Stefani while I add up all the good deeds I did to earn…no wait deserve these shoes.  In my head I am strutting past all those K-mart flip flop-wearing fools as they part like the Sea before Moses, all eyes glued to fine craftsmanship tied to my ankles.   The next thing I know, plastic is flying at the cashier and my toes are curling with delight.  I have to fight the urge to scream, “Yes, I shoe; I shoe good!”

The car ride home is a long four hours over bridges and little islands that make up the Florida Keys.  I am going over in my head how to cut corners to afford the shoes practically baby-seated in the back seat.  First, plan- stop eating.  Second, plan- pick up some extra shifts at the second job I already have to pay for my shoe addiction.  Third plan- no more shoes shopping until these are paid off.  Those plans will remain in place until I retrieve my Marie Claire from the mailbox.  As I place my new shoes in a special, protective glass case, I notice the magazine cover headline raving about a new chunky ankle boot by Gucci.  Suddenly, Fergie’s “Clumsy” comes on the radio of my mind,  “The girl can’t help, she just help it. She’s back in love!”  And I am.

I shoe; I shoe real good.

 

My Shopping Holiday December 20, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — theislandshoegirl @ 9:20 am
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A little bit of Holiday cheer my feet in these beautiful Chinese Laundry heels. Photo by Jean Thornton

It’s December 20th, another holiday season is in high gear, and the Christmas sales are pushing last minute deals.  In malls across America women have practically beat each other silly for a pair of discounted lace panties that once worn they will fight to keep from riding up.  The lack of malls in Key West; however, keeps most of us from having to kill our neighbors over a pair Calvin Klein Jeans on the clearance rack.  This time of year is a good time for a shop-aholic like me to be far a way from the lure of malls.  Unfortunately, the season of “self giving” starts while I am still on my annual visit to my family up north—or as it could also be called “the land of malls.”

In general I can make it about 24 hours into a visit home before I break and have to buy something.  I am like the child that begs to open one gift early and carefully shakes each package for telltale signs of what is inside.  As soon as I have hugged each waiting family member at my parents’ house, it is time to see old friends such as DSW Shoe Warehouse, Macy’s, Old Navy and many other old shopping mall pals who anxiously await my visit.  I walk through the double glass doors and plunge myself into the sounds and smells of the of the holiday season: piped holiday music softly surrounds, registers chime, large red shopping bags dance by and the scent of expensive perfumes drift from their respective counters. 

It has become increasingly clear to me that I cannot be within 20 minutes of a shopping mall without being pulled into the parking lot with magnetic force.  With each day of my visit another quick trip to a mall produces more bags and things to pack up for the long trip back.  By the end of the week, I think driving was a better option than flying simply based on trunk space.  Nine pairs of shoes, eight new shirts, seven sweet deals becomes the refrain of my 12 Days of Christmas. 

Ah yes, it is a special time of year!  Nothing glistens during like the holidays like a freshly polished silver rack proudly displaying the perfect Diane Von Furstenberg dress for New Year’s Eve.  Tis the season to show all of your old high school friends how much better your life is by flashing that new Kate Spade bag.  The gifts under the family Christmas tree are plentiful, but I can not resist the joy of carrying loads of bags containing fabulous deals & finds that are presents to the many sides of me that have worked hard all year.

For ‘the me’ that stayed late in the office for too little pay—a new power skirt that does not require expensive dry cleaning.  For ‘the me’ that got dumped by that jerk and spent a week feeling absolutely low—a new pair of five-inch Steve Madden booties made for walking out when he crawls back.  For ‘the me’ that survived the months of mind numbing heat—a new sundress off the clearance rack.    For the part of me that hopes this New Year’s Eve will bring a new romance—a stunning new dress and pair of gladiator stilettos that will make mouths drop long before the ball does. 

My parents and brothers will give the gifts that make sense and make life a little easier: a blender that I have needed for years, a new set of canisters because the sugar jar has been stuck since June, spatulas and a garlic press to make my cooking more successful. The practical gift card to help with the new sofa fund (because I spent the last sofa fund on shoes that I could not pass up).  All wonderful things that will be cherished and appreciated.  

The holidays are a time of sharing, giving and catching up.  It is a time when I get to see some family that I may only see once every year, sometimes less.  I love spending time with my family and seeing how much the children have grown over the year.  But I also enjoy the time I spend rewarding myself for surviving another year and bracing myself for the start of a new one.  I don’t think it is selfish or over-indulgent; there are many times I give to myself last or maybe not at all.  So during the last week of December I take advantage of the sales and treat myself.  Hey! Some people justify that extra sugar cookie; I justify that extra glance at the shoe section.  After all, the holidays are a time of magic, make believe, and hopeful thoughts of the future.  I just like to believe that magic comes in a size 6 ½ heel and will bring much joy, happiness, and success in the future.

 

Believing in Birthdays December 13, 2009

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 8:54 am
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Put on your party shoes and enjoy the birthday cake. Photo by Jean Thornton

Birthdays are funny things.  When we are little, birthdays are cause for great parties and even greater anticipation.  As we get older, birthdays change from the highlight of our year to simply another day.   Only when we get to an age where people are amazed that we are still alive do birthdays again become cause for celebration. Our adult lives and adult responsibilities take over; for me, it’s not feeling old that make my birthdays a less exciting event, it’s feeling rushed.   

Being a December baby born within the dreaded two week range around Christmas, my birthday has always conflicted with holiday events.  Yet as a child my birthdays were exciting.  There were the cupcakes at school, the sleepover with friends, and all the singing and cheering over my mere existence.  The whole day was MY day, from choosing a sugary breakfast of donuts to bundles of birthday cards—it was non-stop smiles.   Birthday cakes with loads of sweet frosting were not diet-busting dangers but wish granting machines.

My birthdays since college have become less important in both my adult schedule and that of others.  I am not offended by it; I understand because my calendar is just as complicated and clogged with all the realities of life as the next  person’s.  I am happy just to spend an evening without a work crisis and with good friends—even when those friends live in my shoe closet.  In the critical time crunch before holiday vacations start and much of the world stops functioning until January 2nd, a birthday can almost be an inconvenience.

That is how I was looking at my birthday again this year.  I was not throwing a pity party for myself, but I was planning on keeping my birthday calm, simply hoping to wrap up work projects and brace for another year ahead.  It hasn’t been an easy year in my line of work as a homeless shelter case manager.  The budgets have been slashed since there simply are not enough tax dollars to go around, but at the same time, more and more Americans lose their homes, lose their jobs, and lose hope for their future.  And so the demand for shelter space becomes greater.  

The hardest part for me is not the thought of previously successful people struggling to find the simplest job, or the shame of elderly persons who can no longer afford to balance small budgets and maintain their health.  It is the children.   Children make up almost 25% of the homeless population nationwide; they are frequently the most overlooked part of our homeless population.  While I understand that most people truly want to believe in an America where children have homes with warm beds and full stomachs at night, sadly, I know this is not true for every child in our country.

One of my goals is that the children at my shelter do not “feel homeless”—that they feel like every other child in town.  It takes a lot of hard work and community support to just meet a child’s basic needs.  Birthdays, however, are often forgotten days by those outside of the shelter.   Recently, I had the chance to help remember one birthday; it was a big one too, 7 years old.   No driver’s license, no extended curfews, no voting rights.  But when you are 6, 7 is a very big deal.  

Birthdays at the shelter do not resemble the ones shown on television shows.  There are no inflatable jumping houses, no clowns, no pony rides.  Our staff always finds a way to make the day as special as we possible; there usually are homemade birthday cakes, party hats, a few small simple presents, and a couple of balloons.  Even though the guest list is small—only the other residents of the shelter—the candles and birthday wishes still shine just as brightly. All the things that we adults once held true as children are still believed by little ones today.  They still think they are friends with the coolest person in the world simply because they tell the best jokes; that adults are amazing because they can light candles; and all their gifts are priceless no matter the actual cost.  And they still believe that if they wish with all their heart, that wish will come true. 

Yes, birthdays could be seen as just another day of the year.  But the beauty of a birthday is that it really is your day; the other 364 belong to someone else but that one day is yours.  It could be easy to see this year as disappointing in a time when so many have lost so much.  But if children in homeless shelters can find a reason to celebrate their own .special day then surely we adults can find one day for ourselves too. 

I’ve decided birthdays should really be a lot more like we dreamed they would be when we were little.  So this year I am dropping the first number and embracing the ‘8’ at the end of mine.  I plan to eat a big piece cake and not worry about the calories.  My friends will be the coolest people in the whole world because they make me laugh; my parents will be amazing because they still do things I have yet to master; and the gifts from the heart will mean the most.  And I will believe that if I wish with all my heart it will come true.