The Island Shoe Girl's Blog

Where shoes meet sand…

The Joy of Getting Lost December 6, 2009

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 8:31 am
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These Dolce and Gabana heels are perfect for going no where at all! Photo by Jean Thornton

I recently had the chance to be a stranger in a strange land; for a little island girl, Miami is not only a big city, but a strange one too.  I was undeterred—the bright lights and fast-moving traffic cannot sway this shoe girl from tracking down every shoe clearance rack in the greater Miami area.  Thanks to the wonderful world of Wi-Fi and my lap top, I was quickly Googling directions to all the shopping hot spots I could find.  Yet five minutes into the drive I found myself cursing my mis-guided map questing which was leading me the wrong way down one way streets and had me swerving semi trucks in the express lane.  I could not help but wonder: what ever happened to good old-fashioned navigation and exploration?

I quickly realized that a traffic jam in Miami is as common as stiletto in my shoe closet, and I began re-thinking taking that GPS system off my holiday wish list last year.  With my printed directions offering little solution and leaving  me with time while sitting in the bumper-to-bumper traffic to ponder why I chose the “quickest route offered via interstate” and why I was spending all my free time pushing on towards the next shopping destination when I wasn’t even sure what I would find there.  In a world where it is becoming more and more difficult to get lost, I was lost and in more ways than one. 

GPS comes on our cell phones, built into our cars, and sometimes I think it would be good on my designer heels in case of theft.  But is it really so great to always to be told the quickest route to the next shoe sale or whatever life’s next adventure is?  Here I was, having a road rage panic attack because traffic was preventing my speedy arrival; however, I really had no schedule.  Yet I was convinced I had to get where I was going so I could get there and leave for the next destination. 

In my search for Shoe Mecca, I was passing by tons of little shops and boutiques that just may have hidden heel treasure inside.  Like so often in life, I was focusing only on my destination.  I could not help but see the similarity in my own life: rush through the work week to get the weekend; rush through the grocery store to get home, usually forgetting half my list; rush to the bank; rush to meet friends, only to rush off so I can get a good rest for the next day of rushing.  Even in asleep my mind is rushing through confusing dreams of what my future might look like. 

It’s no wonder that on a day when I had no place I had to be, I spent it rushing to stores that maybe had some great deals, I have become accustomed to not sitting still and enjoying where I am when I am there.  As children we love adventure; an afternoon spent exploring is a delight.  The older we get, the more we push ourselves to reach our next goal, the next milestone, and the next step—even when there are no plans beyond the moment we are in.  Even in Key West, where taking it slow is our motto, I see us all becoming more caught up in what is happening next. 

When I finally arrived at the end of my directions, I was hardly saying, “Woohoo!”  I was disappointed in what I found.  There were no secret shoe deals; there were hardly any deals at all.  I won’t even express my sadness at the handbag selection.  However, I decided not to leave empty handed or minded, so to speak.  I determined that it was time to stop looking for the next ‘thing’ or sale, and to start looking at what the journey had to offer.  It may not be the shoes we find at our determined destination that brings us the most joy and satisfaction, but maybe it’s the shoes we walked in that give us the true happiness we are looking for.  I took the long way back to the hotel and cruised along at the speed limit.  Let someone else take the express way, it was time to enjoy having time and no place to be.  

PS.  Do not worry my shoe fanatical friends, I still left Miami with seven delightful pairs of shoes!

 

All Good Shoes Go to Heaven November 29, 2009

Filed under: Its All About the Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 10:13 am
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These heavenly LAMB shoes are guardian angels of the toes. Photo by Jean Thornton

I have a hard time letting go of shoes.  When I was little, I once made my Mom retrieve a pair of shoes I had outgrown and she had passed onto a neighbor’s little girl.  In all fairness, I had worn those shoes in my fashion show debut—they had historical relevance!  Even a grown shoe girl with more than 120 pairs of heels wears out a set every now and the then, not to mention the occasional shoe catastrophe that leads to broken heels or straps.  This leads to the inevitable death of a shoe and the difficult task of mourning and moving on. 

As I glance over my shoes closet, I can see pairs that are losing their luster.  Bows that once held stiff and proud now droop a little.  And paten-leather shows its age with creases and wrinkles from the stress and strain that comes with being worn out.  Sadly, there are no anti-wrinkle creams for stilettos and boots; trust me I have tried every Este Lauder lotion that guarantees overnight results.  The truth of the mater is that no shoe stays new forever; all soles get scuffed and newer shoes come along every season. 

Some shoes stay longer than others; some shoes have a more important a role in our lives leading to a more painful loss.  I find myself avoiding the reality of a shoe death from time to time.  Just the removal from the closet to under-the-bed storage makes me emotional.  I feel like I am telling my shoes I don’t love them as much or that they have been replaced.  I have been told by mothers of human children that you don’t have favorites; I think as a ‘shoe mother’ I understand this.  Yes, some shoes may be more expensive or elicit more compliments, but in the end every shoe has a piece of my soul.  But just like children, sometimes a shoe has to leave the nest… or shoe closet at some point.

I would never promote the idea of a shoe death panel, as that would sound just as silly as one in a national health care plan.  But from time to time I have to weigh the pros, cons, and quality of shoe life left in my more worn-down heels.  Walking around in shoes past their prime can cause more than just damage to a fashion image—it can cause physical damage.  A worn-out stiletto literally caused my downfall and broken toe, and I can assure you retiring my orthopedic boot was not a difficult call at the end of it all! 

So how do we know when a shoe has given us all the height and support it has to offer?  It may show when we strut, but sometimes it’s a feeling too.  No fashion magazine can truly sway me to give up a trendy shoe that I have lived with and loved.  Yet, popular opinion encourages us to plan for the end of our time and the end of our loved one’s time.  If only shoes came with a directive for how they would like to be laid to rest.  How handy would those new Michael Kors’ stilettos be if they could indicate they are okay  with being resoled or having a heel reattached but they do not want any replacement leather straps?

Reviving shoes past their prime and extraordinary measures aside, there comes a time when we must all say good-bye to a good sole.   Even with a Living Will it is never easy, and despite my efforts I have yet to find a funeral home that will hold a tasteful farewell to these fallen heroes of the toes. Leaving the task of burial to me alone, it is not a job I enjoy and I drag it out as long as possible.  If the shoes are on a closet shelf I first move them to the floor; I think of it like end of life care.  Then I put them outside the closet in my ever-evolving pile of things to leave the house.  Finally, I work up the nerve to do the dirty deed and take the final step of slipping them into the trash bag.  Often I have to fight the urge to rip open the bag and dig out my beloved shoes from the mix of broken egg shells and old tea bags.  I have to tell myself that those shoes are going to better place, at least figuratively because in reality they are just going to the county dump. 

It’s true no new shoe can replace a good heel completely, just as no brown strappy sandal can be easily replaced with the next—not after everything that shoe has given you.  And yes, there will be moments when you look back and say “if only that shoe were here, my outfit would be perfect!”  While a new pump can fill the void in our shoe closet, in our hearts the pain of losing a familiar pair that has helped us stand strong may linger.  Over time our mind focuses on only the best moments to remember and we choose to cherish the good times, forgetting any blisters.

 

Saying Goodbye to a Home November 22, 2009

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:48 am
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Thanksgiving Week is a time of year to be spent with family and good friends that have become our extended family.  It is also a time to show our gratitude and share our childhood memories.  This week I am sharing a little bit of the home my parents provided for me and my brothers.

Not a beach in site, the childhood home of the Island Shoe Girl. Photo by Remax Homebase.

My parents sold their home in Fairborn and moved from Ohio to South Carolina this month.  My brothers and I have already spread out across the East Coast and welcome their retirement change of scenery and the beautiful adventures it will bring them.  But with the final closing papers comes a farewell to a house on Grant Street that has always been my home.  It is the only home I ever knew from the time I was born to the day I left for college. 

Our house was not large and has never graced the covers of a home décor magazine, but it was the best place in the world for anyone to grow up.  I know the things I will miss about this house are memories that we created as a family.  I will miss running barefoot in our backyard while my Mom waters her garden.  I can still hear the basketball bouncing in the driveway from my brothers shooting hoops and smell of a fire in the chimney on winter days.  And although it has been years since I have rode my bike up the driveway to see the dining room light on, signaling a family meal, I am sad all the same that we will not gather in that room again. 

I am blessed to have never come home to an empty house; even when my parents were not home, their presence was there.  I always had a curfew with parents who really cared and worried if it was missed.  I cursed the evenings I spent studying spelling words at the kitchen table, knowing that my Dad would quiz me on them before I could watch television.  I loved the nights that the Christmas tree lights shone across the hall and into my bedroom, and the dreams of Christmas morning they brought.  On rainy days my brothers and I spent long hours in the basement letting our imagination run wild until a fight over sharing G.I. Joes would break out.  

My family has grown and matured, all of us kids are adults with homes of own now, and our house has grown up too.  The lovely red carpet in the family room that camouflaged Kool-Aid spills has been replaced with a not-so-forgiving beige.  Our kitchen has been upgraded, the dining room painted, and our bedrooms have gone from childhood rooms filled with mementos of our youth to guest rooms suited for any visitor.   Soon the sale will be complete and no longer will the little blue bedroom be “mine” in any sense of the word.  It will belong to someone new; another couple who I hope knows what a treasure they are getting. 

I now live in Key West, and while the beaches and warm breezes helped with my decision to move, I came because of career options.  I always maintain that I grew up in a great place and had many wonderful opportunities that shaped me into the person I am today.  Ohio gave me all four seasons: hiking in the spring, autumn football games, snow days in the winter and summers at the pool.  Ohio gave me neighbors who knew my name and greeted me cheerfully during college vacations.  Ohio gave me friends, farms, sweet corn, fairs, and Bob Evans’s biscuits & gravy. 

I am happy for my parents and the lovely new house they are getting.  In a time when most real estate news is dismal and depressing, it is refreshing to see a deal occur where someone gets a true dream home—a home for their retirement that rewards years of hard work.  And I am happy for the couple buying our house in Fairborn; I believe that they are getting a dream home too.  I hope that someday my bedroom belongs to one of their children, that another dog plays fetch in the backyard, and that their family celebrates birthdays around the dining room table. 

 There is something tied to a house key that keeps it lingering in a drawer even after it no longer unlocks our front door.  For anyone who has held onto a key long after a home becomes a place we used to live, my emotions and sentiments will surely be familiar. So with both joy and sadness I say a final good-bye to the house on Grant Street.  I am not sure I will see you again outside of my memories and photographs, but understand you will always have a place in my heart.  Take care of this new family as you have taken care of mine, be more than a collection of rooms— be the home you always were.

 

I Want to Date Frosty the Snowman November 15, 2009

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:34 am
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nine west brown boots 4

With a cool man like Frosty I would need some hot boots, like these Nine West stunners! Photo by Jean Thornton

As winter creeps into our wardrobes and I replace my open-toe pumps with knee high boots, I not only think about matching scarves with fabulous top coats but also about a winter romance.  After much thought I have decided that the perfect chill man for me is none other than Frosty the Snowman.  Environmentally trendy and a cool breath of fresh air, Frosty is my ideal man for surviving the colder months.

I know it seems like an odd choice, but when considering the other contenders this snowy white knight wins hands… or branches down.  Sure, I could go for an Elf, but he would be working around the clock.  And despite his access to that infamous “Naughty and Nice List”, who wants to explain why their new fabulous boyfriend is too busy to attend all those swinging holiday parties.  Plus, elves tend to be short and those boots are tall!  There is also Rudolph of reindeer fame, who has reputation of always playing games—true they are reindeer games but games nonetheless.   Factor in that over-demanding boss who always needs a ride somewhere, and there are not many reasons to yell “yippee!”

Consider some of Frosty’s personal characteristics and I think you will agree with my choice.  While appearances are not everything, he does have those dark smoky eyes and a cute little button nose.  Sure he smokes and I am not sure if a nicotine patch can be applied to snow, but some flaws should be overlooked.  Frosty is good with children, enjoys dancing, and greets you with a big smile every night when you come home from a hard day’s work. 

Of course Frosty is NOT a fashion icon. While he is wearing white after Labor Day, he is still a snappy dresser with that magic in his old silk hat.  The best part about Frosty is that his height is adjustable. Want to wear those new amazing platform boots?  Pack a little extra snow around his base and get instant height. 

All my friends are sure to be jealous of Frosty and me.  Who wouldn’t love my new love interest?  He will be a delightful addition to the holiday party circuit with his jolly happy soul and hilarious jokes about a polar bear in a snow storm.  Frosty is the perfect date to be with if I run into an ex-boyfriend. Why shoot an icy look at my former beau when I can just break off of chunk of Frosty and lob it at him.  I never worry about his former girlfriend popping up; she’s a total flake—literally!   

Frosty and I will meet shortly after Thanksgiving, falling into my life just as the last leaves are swept away by a blustery wind.  Little by little he will show up in my life.  We will spend the holidays together hanging Christmas lights on my porch.  I’ll sip cocoa while he describes what our snow angel children will look like. Sure, roasting chestnuts by the fire is a no-no, but he is great at sledding and enjoys a brisk winter walk through downtown streets. 

As once bright and shiny winter days turn into another cold ho-hum case of the winter blahs, I know our love will come to an end.  Not long after Valentine’s Day our love may begin to thaw.  Frosty will be a little less exciting, frolicking around town will not be as much fun, and I will long for a little warmer man.  No awkward break-up conversations needed here.  I’ll just knock Frosty down with a snow shovel and watch him melt out of my life.  The only thing left of our love will be his corn cob pipe.  It is time to move on to a Spring Break romance down in the tropics with Captain Morgan.    

This chilly romance may seem impractical, but Frosty used to fill everyone with such wonder and joy as children that it only seems right that he could fill the lonely, cold months with that same cheer in my adult years.  Often the love of a first snow or the joy of a sled ride is lost as we grow up.  Holiday shopping and pushing for end of year deadlines may override the cheer that once filled our schedules.   Perhaps a brief winter fling with a figment of childhood imagination is just the thing to break away from the realities that can not be shoveled away. 

It may be nice to have a little bit of magic in life again…even if it does comes from a brief romance with a snowman.  Besides even in the aftermath of our love affair, his last words will stay in my ears and in my heart, “Don’t you cry; I’ll be back again some day.”  He just may end up being an ex-boyfriend I enjoy seeing on some other winter day.

 

Shoe-off November 8, 2009

Filed under: Its All About the Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 10:05 am
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staurt weitzman red 1

These Staurt Weitzman's are clear winners in any shoe-off! Photo by Jean Thornton

In grade school I could never get very far in any spelling bee.  During my teen years I knew better than to claim an understanding of any form of science.  Throughout college I stayed quiet while my friends got into the deep debates about religion and faith.  I knew my limits then and I know my limits now, which is why when it comes to car repair or recommending a bottle of wine I default to those with more experience.  However there are some topics I can stand my ground on and one of those is obviously shoes and no one is better prepared for a shoe-off than I am. 

Some of you doubters are wondering two things: first, what is a shoe-off and second, in what alternate reality do shoe-offs occur in?   The answers are as simple as pairing a kitten heel with a breezy tea-length dress!  I refer to ‘shoe’ as a verb in this situation, as something you do, not what you wear out of necessity.  A shoe-off is kind of like the old “yo momma” smack down from grade school playgrounds—only far more sophisticated because it happens in really pretty shoes and as adults you have perfected the hand-on-hip stance, plus you are not standing by the monkey bars. 

Shoe-offs are basically a way that you defend your shoe taste against another woman (or in some cases a gay man) while never having to open your mouth or even rolling your eyes, although eye rolling is still permitted.  Clearly, a shoe-off involves a comparison of shoes; even the most confused man can figure that one out.  Since it is a well-known fact by those “in the know” that the one with the best and most shoes wins basically at life; logic tells us that a shoe-off is only one battle in the war of shoe.   You may lose the shoe-off but still win the war, although I don’t like to take chances on such things. 

You may be saying, who calls a win in a shoe-off?  Trust me—you know who the clear winner of a shoe-off is.  It is like a presidential debate.  Sure both sides may have their points but only a stiletto can stab victory.  The loser, of course, must play it cool and take it in stride like a New York Fashion Week model in a dud of a gown.  You must keep your head up no matter what and walk it off. 

In the words of Gwen Stefani “This *#$% is bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S.” And it pretty much always is!  A shoe-off is not for the faint of heart and weak of mind.  You have to have the cold stare and determination of sniper with his target in his crosshairs.  It also helps if your pedicure is absolutely flawless.  A shoe-off can literally come out of nowhere and happen at anytime.  Just like a chance meeting with an ex, you have to be ready to strut what your momma gave you and what Calvin Klein made you.  That is why I almost never leave my home without putting my best heel forward.  Walking the dog can become a showdown with the new neighbor and I have to protect my turf at all costs. 

Shoe-offs can happen anywhere really and, trust me, they go down everyday.  From the grocery store to a night at the bar or running to the ATM a shoe-off can happen anywhere.  You have to always be prepared to defend your shoe girl status.  I have actually had cars pull over to compliment my shoes while hanging up a yard sale sign.  One time my friend Shelia and I had a shoe-off while driving, while this may sound impossible the other cars that saw my platforms hanging out the window can back up this event. 

To those who witness a good old-fashioned shoe-off it may remind you of a duel scene in a Western film, 20 paces and then strike your best pose that displays multiple angles and elements of your heels while highlighting your own personal perfections yet hiding your flaws.  It’s basic self-defense when you think about it.  You have to know your environment and your challenger’s weak spots.  Never turn your back unless you’re casually showing off the bracket on your new L.A.M.B. heels. 

The winners, losers, and highlights of shoe-offs may never be printed in the sports page, even though they are far more interesting than major league baseball.  However that does not stop me from the private celebration of knowing I got it when claiming a shoe-off victory.  Yeah, I may never be asked on McLaughlin Group or to help explain the finer points of the latest Supreme Court ruling, but when it comes to shoes I am the go-to girl.  And if you want to challenge me on that, meet me outside at sunset and you better bring your big girl shoes because I am going to knock you out of them.  Shoe-off thrown down!

 

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
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
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.