The Island Shoe Girl's Blog

Where shoes meet sand…

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

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

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

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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

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.

 

 
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