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.
