The Island Shoe Girl's Blog

Where shoes meet sand…

A Message to the Moms from a Non-Mom May 13, 2012

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:59 am
Tags: , , , , ,

A future shoe girl practices in her mom’s boots. Photo by Jessica Bennett

I am not a mom.  I am good with kids for about 6 hours and then my focus begins to wane.  Sometimes when I am watching a friend’s children, they will remark that I can get their kids to bed fairly quickly.  This is because I have been waiting for 9pm since I arrived at their house and am a firm believer that 9pm is when both children and the Mickey Mouse Playhouse need to shut it down for the night.

Children are powerless against me because I worked every trick in the book growing up.  Mystery 8:45 stomach aches?  Had it for years, kid.   Sudden burst of interest in reading at 8:50?  You would think I would be a lot smarter if I really wanted to read another book.  8:55 crippling hunger pains?  Hello, let’s not even pretend that’s original.  And of course there’s the ‘Hail Mary play’ at 9:00 of missing Mommy/Daddy?  Sell it somewhere else, sweetheart; this shoe girl is all stocked up on sad stories. 

Despite my tendency to rule with an iron stiletto, kids love me.  They love that I smell like perfume.  They love that my nails are shiny and red; that I wear tall shoes and have a purse that—although lacking Gold Fish snacks—always has some type of gum their parents would never give them.  And the only “grape juice” at my house has been aged into red wine.  I even have the dog their mom says they cannot take care of. 

I am their mom’s exotic friend who still lives in the land of “Single-ville.”  I have breakable things on shelves they can reach, magazines that talk about nail polish as opposed to furniture polish, and I don’t have to spell words out in the comfort of my own home.  I let them make a mess because at the end of the day I don’t have to clean it up. And I have never had to remove bath toys before taking a shower.  I am the opposite of mom. 

This is not a bad thing.  This is just how life separates the moms from the non-moms.  Moms get snuggles during bedtime stories; non-moms get glasses of wine while watching Bravo.  Moms get macaroni art; non-moms get to go to that artist show at a trendy gallery.   Moms get Mother’s Day breakfast in bed, and non-moms get a late brunch with their fellow single friends. 

I am willing to guess that most moms would not give up the snuggles, edible art, or slightly burnt toast for the things that non-moms enjoy.  Perhaps some day when their kids are grown, these moms will once again find themselves watching a Real Housewives reunion special and enjoy the sheer pleasure of being smarter than six women sitting on sofa screaming at each other over a child’s birthday gift.  But in the meantime, enjoy the little things that only come with being a mom.  

There comes a time for all moms when the macaroni art trade dries up (literally) and they suddenly have the time for painting nails and Sunday Brunch.    The non-mom things are easy to get back; the mom things are little bit harder to find again.  So, speaking for all the non-moms out there, never be annoyed that we can trick your kids into going to sleep or that your kid thinks my house is so cool and has a dog.  Because if your kids were really that impressed with us non-moms, we would have macaroni art.  So enjoy your day, all of you moms.  Let us non-moms buy you a drink… don’t worry; we can wait till your kids are asleep or in college—whichever comes first.

 

Save the Letter May 7, 2012

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 8:56 am

This Saturday is the annual Stamp Out Hunger Food Drive held by the United States Postal Service.  Communities across the country participate is this impressive effort to stuff our food pantries.  To participate all you have to do is leave a bag (or bags) of non-perishable food items next to your mailbox this Saturday May 12th.  Your postal person will pick up the items when they leave your mail.  The donations go to stocking your local food pantries and helping neighbors in need.  For more information visit www.helpstampouthunger.com

Dear Sir or Madame,

This week I am taking a moment to write to you about an element of style that one will not find in your closet, dresser, or jewelry box.   I am stomping my stilettos for a piece of good taste and elegance that is fading.  OurUnited States’ Post Office is in jeopardy of becoming extinct and with it the tradition of handwritten letters are going too.  While this may not seem like a fashion issue, good manners and proper correspondence are always in style.  Just like a pair of black patent leather pumps, a hand-written letter delivered by our friendly postal person is a classic reflection of American chic-ness. 

Now I am the first person to admit that the Post Office has frustrated me in the past.  I will not dredge up issues that are better left among junk mailings from Pier One; but it is enough to say that I have also been frustrated by increased postage rates, long lines to mail a present, and even a random and confusing re-direction of my mail one November.  But today I come to you to plead the case of mail in its purest form: the letter. 

Remember when mail was fun?  When it was all birthday cards and postcards from friends on vacations?  When you opened a letter from your grandmother and a well-worn five dollar bill fell out?  Those were the days before our mailboxes contained credit card bills and cell phone statements, when we were not constantly bombarded with promises of lower insurance rates and 20% off coupons from Bed,Bath, and Beyond….honestly who is buying that much stuff for the bed or bath, or beyond?

In these modern days when many of us carry our Blackberries and I-Phones loaded with our multiple email accounts, the ability to text message and even Facebook, it is clear why many have abandoned the art of old-fashioned letter writing.  Most of us may struggle to even find a stamp when it comes time to respond to the rare bill that is not accepted by online payment.  Convenience is killing letter writing. 

I am not proclaiming that we hearken back to the old days of pressing a wax seal against the lip of an envelope, but there is value beyond the current rate of postage in writing an occasional letter or two.  A handwritten letter is like the perfect Hermes bag or a simple strand of pearls; it is the difference between an outfit and “a look.”  Like Jackie O’s oversized glasses, a graceful slopping cursive ‘M’ starting a Mrs., Mr., Miss., or Ms. and the ending a flourish after a zip code scribed across a small, colored envelop is  a demonstration of taste.

Think of the cards you have tucked into drawers, hidden in the back of yearbooks and photo albums.  What do they say; what moments do they commemorate?  Perhaps there is a graduation announcement from high school next to the card your grandmother wrote, expressing her pride and hope for your future.  Maybe there is a birthday card from a college friend who time has separated from you.  If you are lucky, there might be a love letter of sorts from a flame possibly extinguished now, or it represents a love still strong.  One day, sadly, these letters and the words scribbled on Hallmark Cards and stationary could be the only sample of handwriting left by those who loved us the most.  And long after we can’t hear them say our names or “I love you”, we hold onto those declarations and the everyday statements quickly jotted at the end of note meant just to say hello.

And while there are cards that you surely have saved, if you are lucky there are cards you have sent that are equally treasured by those recipients.   The card we mailed to mark a holiday or other special moment for a loved one, may just be the simple gesture that brings a smile to our grandparents’, parents’, or siblings’ faces.  Ask any solider and I am sure they will tell you that a letter, simple and thoughtful, from someone back home describing ordinary moments is worth far more than 45¢. 

Since the days of the Pony Express there has been nothing more worth the wait than a piece of mail sent, not because it requires urgent attention, but because it is meant to share or perhaps provide some cheer.  Yes, there is great importance in the mail; it says things we did not realize we want to say.  There might be quicker, easier ways to communicate in a world of Skype and internet hype.  Waiting at the Post Office may cause us to tap our pumps and shift in our sling-backs; use your Blackberry to pass the time.  Trust me, the minutes spent there will be worth continuing the tradition and art of writing a letter, and it will certainly keep you classically stylish. 

Sincerely,

The Island Shoe Girl XOXO

 

Facebook Intervention April 22, 2012

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 10:08 am
Tags: , , , , ,

If these shoes could Facebook.... photo by Stephanie Kaple

As I write this, I know I run the risk of committing Facebook suicide by saying what I am about to say.  I can imagine within in mere minutes that my “friends” list will drop to single digit numbers; yet I can no longer live in silence… at least status update silence.  Good people of the world, some of this Facebook content is getting out of control—and this is coming from a woman who thinks having fewer than 100 pairs of shoes is a sign of mental illness. 

I was not the first to jump on the Facebook bandwagon.  Like many others, I have had my hesitations about posting my random thoughts—let alone deep thoughts—online for the world (or my selected world) to see.  Despite my resistance, I came around and now find the updates and pictures of my friends a nice distraction when waiting in line at the post office or killing time during commercial breaks.  It has been strange to reconnect with people who would have become long lost faces found only in old high school yearbooks or as the faded names of those we used to play with in elementary days. 

I have been amazed by the ways I can now relate to these friends who once ran the risk of becoming just someone I used to know.  Now, we exchange recipes, recommend books and gossip about the latest celebrity breakups.  As much as I hate to admit it, it’s kind of amazing to see the friends I knew as kids (let’s face it, we were) now become these adults who have careers, change their communities, and yes answer the complicated questions from their own kids.  And I hope they find some old humor and new humor in my continuous updates about shoes…which I find insightful and important!

With all that said, I have to lay it on the line: I think some folks are spending way too much time updating their Facebook status and not enough time on their lives in general.  Okay, call me ridiculous and say nasty things, but you know I am right.  Scan down your news feed and you will surely find more than one friend who appears to spend the majority of their days looking for little cute sayings to share on their page, and these are generally done with some type of vintage style image.  Sometimes they are complaining about a lack of wine, sex, good men, or chocolate which all seem like problems a trip to the grocery store could resolve if you know how to shop and flirt in the meat department.  Other times they might just proclaim the obvious like how much a pet loves them. Listen—my dog should be loving me.  After all, I carry his poop around in a bag for several blocks at least three times a day. 

As if the fact that some portion of the population has the time to search out their cute little squares of wisdom to share all day, I also have to know where all of my friends are and what they are eating.  I get it, your friends are real and you go places where you have fabulous food and my friends are profile pictures that just posted a video of a cat falling off a piano.  Whatever!  And while we are on the subject, a status update about how your significant other is the love of your life is pointless.  After all, if you are in a serious relationship with anniversaries and perhaps public ceremony declaring your love I am going to assume that that person treats you well.  I don’t need an update about how much you love them or how they have given you some amazing or unique gift as an unexpected expression of that love.  Unless that expression included something from Tiffany’s or Chanel, I won’t be impressed. 

Here’s the deal: I want to know when your kid does something freaking adorable; I love it when you tell me your team won at bar trivia. Heck, I even care when the copier broke at your office.  I am right there with you, fellow Facebook warrior.  I want to support you like a platform Jimmy Choo supports my arches.  But I do not want to help run a fictional farm, create an imaginary zoo or collect fake diamonds.  Please let’s keep the status updates free of cute-kitten-hanging-from-a-tree-limb. Yes, it is almost Friday but this friend is not “hanging in there”; she’s more like to saw off the limb or de-friend you.

 

And the Winning Numbers Aren’t… April 8, 2012

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 12:07 pm
Tags: , , ,

Rhinestone bows will have to do until I find those winning numbers. I am writing to inform you that I am not one of the three Power Ball Lottery winners.  Sadly, I am not $640 million or $217 million richer this week.  I have not hidden secret tickets from my co-workers; I do not have an oversized check from the state lottery commission hidden under my bed.  No, I am still just your run-of-the-mill working shoe girl today. 

Despite the fact that I did not give to live the Paul Simon song and wear diamonds on the soles of my shoes, I have decided to pick myself up, dust on my not so sparkly stilettos, and carry on with my non-millionaire life.  Now you might be thinking that the fact that my state does not participate in this Power Ball Lottery would darken my dreams of winning.  But let’s face it, even the most isolated shoe girl heard about these mega millions.  Who wouldn’t dream a little dream about how those hundreds of millions would change her life?

I am proud to say that the first thoughts I had for how to use my imaginary multi-millions was for good.  Without much hesitation I could easily promise my first and most significant use of the money would be to give to some charities particularly close to my heart.  The thought of telling my boss that he was never going to have to worry about writing another grant or worry about another budget cut, but to say instead that from this moment onward we will worry only about saving lives would be pretty incredible.  I could imagine dashing off checks to my alma maters and providing for my family.  

But after the good deeds are done, I would still be a significantly wealthy lady.  And I do mean significantly wealthy lady.  I would be so wealthy that you could forget about me limiting myself to shoes closets.  It would be silly to think that a shoe room would do in this financial bracket; no, I would require a shoe house at this point.  And I mean a house made of shoes, carefully laid out and stacked to provide my little shoe-loving heart with a cocoon of stilettos. 

No longer would I have to hope to find a hidden pair of Manolo Blahnik’s on a sale rack.  If I had a desire to bargain hunt I could buy the entire outlet mall and then just roam about at my leisure.  Who needs guest rooms for all your visiting friends and family when you can have a guest block of houses?  Imagine the luxury of keeping your loved ones at a distance that will allow them to stay your loved ones.  I could even pay off my car… okay it’s a used Kia Rio, a scratch off lottery ticket could probably take care of that. 

But there would be downsides as well.  A girl of independent means would surely be a target of kidnappers, scoundrels, and politicians in need of Super PACs.  I am not sure what I would fear more—a lurking kidnapper or a loitering Rick Santorum.  Personally, I think I could fend off Santorum easily with a pack of my birth control pills.  And at this crazy level of wealth, I would have to start hanging out with Oprah when I wanted to be around someone richer than me.  How annoying would it be every time she picked up lunch and screamed, “You get a free salad!”

Yes, I am surely better off to be just another working stiff.  Especially since one winner will probably never get another spit-free Big Mac again.  Because while those poor (well not financially) folks who do have a winning ticket are now being thrust into a whole new world where dreams are quickly becoming reality and maybe even becoming nightmares, my dreams get to remain happy and in my head.

So yes, I will hum Diamonds On the Soles of Her Shoes a little bit louder this week while adding to the long list of dreams that might one day come true if I pick those winning numbers.  But I will consider myself lucky all the same to be just an Island Shoe Girl with rhinestones on the soles of my shoes.

 

Technology Block March 25, 2012

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 3:46 pm
Tags: , , , ,

No app can replace the feel of a great pair of heels on your feet. Photo by Jean Thornton

During a meeting the other day, I discovered that ‘screens’ just about outnumbered the actual people in the meeting. 

Blackberry screens, I-phone screens, laptop screens and tablet screen, all glowing and zipping along far faster than those behind them.  As their owners—or those owned by these screens—tapped and poked at them, I could not help but be ashamed that my own Blackberry was consta

 ntly drawing my attention away from the meeting and to an update I probably didn’t really need.  Well…I did need to know about that shoe sale starting in mere minutes. 

But shoe sales aside, I think I might be hitting a technological wall.  Maybe I am getting old; perhaps I am little outdated; you could even call me old-fashioned.   But I think technology should be put on hold before it takes over too much of my life. 

 I am grateful for all that technology has offered me.  Technology has allowed me to be very to the point without being rude.  I can text message to avoid an awkward conversation on the phone.  I can email an insanely brief message from my Blackberry with a cute little tagline that automatically forgives it being incredibly short.  I can even Tweet a quick line out on any topic from my nail polish color to primary results.

And yes, it is nice that I can catch up on my favorite television shows by waving a magic wand at the box beneath my flat screen, high definition television.  By the way, a warning to some of you folks on that high definition television: technology is not being kind to you or your pores.??? Technology has made watching a movie as simple as clicking, getting rid of those last minute movie rental runs and those delicious gooey treats so conveniently located next to the register. 

Okay, so you can make a black & white movie on your phone.  But didn’t Paul Simon write a whole song about the joys of color film?  Remember those nice bright colors?  Sharing photographs used to mean sitting next to someone and passing actual pictures back and forth; now they slide across a screen.  It is amazing that I can see my niece wearing the outfit I sent her on my phone, but maybe that just provides another excuse to not see her in person.   

 I fear technology might be going too far.  Technology is starting to cause a whole rash of extinctions.  The aforementioned video store is one; now the Post Office could be on the chopping block; and books are the next piece of nostalgia at risk.  Why wait in line for stamps when you can email?  Why turn pages when you can simply tap them along? 

 I will tell you why!  Because today it’s a screen tap and tomorrow it’s another experience.  Today you have a digital camera; tomorrow you have a digital handbag.  The next thing we know that app that tells you where the closest shoe store is, may try to replace the actual experience of trying on shoes.  I don’t know about you, but I cannot imagine any piece of technology replacing the feel of a fresh Manolo Blahnik. 

When I go to bed tonight, while my Blackberry might only rest a few inches from head, I will take greater comfort that my stilettos are resting just as near.  Sure, technology might make the digital world closer, but it’s better have my world right where I can touch it or put it on my feet.

 

Believing in Jupiter March 4, 2012

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 4:24 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

Perfect shoes for gazing at Jupiter and beyond. Photo by Jean Thornton.

The other evening on the national news there was a brief mention that, due to a rare aligning of the stars and planets, Jupiter would be visible to the naked human eye.  Later during my nightly walk with my faithful dog Stanley, I looked up at the sky and remembered this little astronomy tidbit.  From the sidewalk I could clearly see the moon and a second large, brightly glowing object slightly to the side of the moon.  While I was uncertain if this second radiant spot in the sky was merely a brighter star or truly the depths of space, I choose to believe the latter. 

I could not help but feel that by believing I was catching a glimpse of Jupiter I was perhaps also reminding myself of the larger mystery of true belief.  Sure, the thought that I was catching a hint of the great beyond that most nights would only be found by telescope might be a stretch of the imagination.  Then again, so much of life…at least my shoe life…is true stretch, especially for my calf muscles.

As I strolled along the street, my mind wandered to the many other things that I had managed to blindly believe in life.  I have the strong belief that Manolo Blahnik thinks of women like me when designing a pair of heels and not just of socialites and debutantes.  I truly believe that Mr. Blahnik imagines his stilettos beneath my toes as I glide through the grocery store.  I blindly believe that each buckle, rhinestone, and embellished strap is meant for a hardworking girl who saved and scrimped for those pretty designs.    

I believe with total certainty that while karma is a bitch, she is also very fair and just.  And while sometimes other aspects of life might not be fair, good karma will work it all out in the end.  Karma corrects what others things cannot and is the reason revenge is often unnecessary.  At the end of the day, little else matters if I am the person my dog thinks I am and, if he can have unending faith in me, I can as well. 

I believe that when so much else in life is completely impractical there is no point in my shoes being pratical.   Sometimes my thoughts may seem outlandish and my ideas might seem larger than my brain can process.  Yet, my most ridiculous ideas have become some of my best, and my biggest regrets are the ideas I let fade away.  It is because I can believe in those crazy thoughts I can still believe that Paris is more than a picture on a postcard; it’s a destination within reach some day. 

So…if I can believe in all of these things, then surely thinking I can see Jupiter as I stroll down the sidewalk on a little island far below the stars is not so out-of-the-realm of rational thinking.  Because just maybe, as I walk along, somewhere Manolo is sketching a heel for a single shoe girl who walks her dog in stilettos, and maybe somewhere karma is correcting whoever hit and ran my car in 2006.  After all, as long as Paris is just a passport stamp away and my dog loves me, seeing the farthest corners of space is very easy to believe too.

 

Ignoring What I Know Now February 26, 2012

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 5:22 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Should you sometimes ignore past blisters and wear the shoes again? Photo by Jean Thornton

Before I can begin my normal blog this week, I think I should explain my sudden absence.  My laptop had a very-near-death experience not too long ago.  Did you know there is a ’blue screen of death’ that can take over a computer?  Well, I learned about this blue screen of death the hard way when it was staring me in the face.  Luckily for me, I happen to know someone who can bring a computer back from the blue screen of death and return it to the multi colored screen of life…or at least in my laptop’s case, the background of shoes.  Let this be your friendly reminder to back up your documents!  Thankfully, blue screen of death only affects computers and cannot spread to stilettos.

Amazing how much you need to write when you are without your laptop and how little of that you can remember when it is returned to life.  May I say that I had a great deal to say about Valentine’s Day this year, and I will advise you that updating your Facebook status with pictures of flowers and cheap teddy bears does not make me think you are loved, but only that you can be fooled by gifts bought at the grocery store. 

With nothing to type on these last two weeks, I had an amazing amount of time to read words written by others and to take my faithful dog on long walks while listening to some of my favorite lyrics.  One night I re-played the old Rod Stewart song When I Was Younger that contains the song lyrics, “I wish that I knew what I know now when I was younger.” I couldn’t help but ponder these words that evening—especially since without the Internet you have far more time for pondering too.   I could not help but think that I did not agree with those words.  In fact, I think I don’t even want to know now what I know some days.

If this song is accurate then having the wisdom we gain in life (or should I perhaps be even more cautious and just go with ‘knowledge’) should perhaps make things better.  I would argue the opposite: I think if I knew less of life’s little lessons I would be a braver shoe girl.  For example, I know now that too much alcohol will result in a far more difficult morning.  Yet, when I was younger I was more naïve about “one more drink” and, instead of paying my tab and bowing out gracefully, I stayed and laughed far later into the night. 

If I had known when I was younger about those hidden costs of life such as flat tires, broken AC units, and dogs that will swallow anything just to see if they can get it back out, I would have certainly put more ‘savings’ aside and in the process cut back on a trip I could barely afford or a pair of shoes that made my heart race.  Heck, if I had known there was going to be a power spike two Saturdays ago I would have unplugged my laptop.  But to be honest E! News was also to blame for that too.

Yes, I realize that those who do not learn from our history are doomed to repeat it.  And I am not saying that there are not good lessons to learn.  It’s true that a blister can teach you a lesson about the dangers of wearing new heels out dancing.  But sometimes these lessons can hold us back from experiences.  And even when these experiences turn out to be bad they can still offer a lot of good.  Sometimes we have to ignore what we know and put on the ridiculously tall heels for a night on the town—or order another drink even if it might make tomorrow morning a little slower.

So perhaps what Rod Stewart should sing is, “I am glad I learned what I did at the appropriate time in my life.”  I guess it’s not as catchy.   But maybe at times we need to ignore what we have learned or maybe acknowledge it while still doing as we please.  After all, the best lessons in life might be worth learning twice.

 

Good Friends, Good Shoes January 8, 2012

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 10:52 am
Tags: , , ,

A girl can never have too many shoes or too many friends. Photo by Jean Thornton

I had a realization this week: good shoes are like good friends in many ways.  This did not come about because I met a new friend with the exact same foot size plus a shoe collection twice as large as mine, which she likes to lend out.  Actually, this thought came about starting with a meeting.  I am a member of a social sorority; we meet once a month, have a variety of social outings, and hold a fundraiser for local charities each year.  And yes, we drink a fair amount of wine. 

This month’s meeting was only two days away when I realized no one had sent out the email reminder saying who was hosting.  I suspected everyone was busy and had forgotten the meeting, perhaps being busy with the end of the holidays.  So I decided I would invite the ladies to my condo thinking that not many would be able to attend.

Now let me explain that my apartment is not a huge; it’s mostly shoe closet.  Okay, so that is an exaggeration…but it won’t be featured in a 6-page spread in Better Homes & Gardens.  It would need maybe 2 pages to cover it.   Nonetheless, I wrote out a quick email while on my 4th glass of red wine and hit send.  Very quickly, my sorority sisters began responding with positive RSVPs.  In no time, I was hosting more guests than I had thought I would. 

After quick vacuuming, dusting off the diplomas (girls gotta look smart and clean), and flipping over the bath mats I was ready to host!  Martha Stewart I am not.  My sorority sisters arrived and my apartment began filling up.  However, with each new guest, my apartment did not shrink but seemed to get a little bigger to let each person in.  I would daresay that even more could have fit in.

Once the evening came to an end and I had said goodbye to my last friend, I went to put my shoes in their place in my shoe closet.  I realized that there always seemed to be a place available for each pair of shoes I find.  Just like the apartment the shoe closet was in, there always seems to be a little more space.

Which is how I came to the idea that good shoes are like good friends in that you can really never have too many.  Sure you could argue that you can only wear one pair of shoes at time, but I can certainly admire many different pairs of shoes at once. Personally, I think that my shoes share a bond between one another and enjoy each other’s company.

And just like friends, you have different shoes for different events and situations.  Some shoes are great for dancing; others for walking, just like some friends are great for having a drink with at the end of long day and others you can call on when you need a cup of sugar.  Some friends are life-long friends just as some shoes are classics that you cherish for life while others shoes are seasonal.  There are friends who make you feel very comfortable, like a pair of Manolo Blahnik’s, while other friends take you to new heights like a pair of six-inch stilettos.

The best part about both good shoes and good friends is that you truly never have enough.  And even when you don’t wear your shoes everyday, it is always good to put them on again.  Like a phone call to catch up with an old friend or friendly letter, you always cherish knowing they are there for you.  And truly, both friends and shoes are invaluable. 

So as this New Year begins, I resolve to appreciate both the good shoes and the good friends—and to welcome both into my home. Hopefully they will all feel welcome anytime.  Luckily, this resolution comes just in time for the After-holiday Sales… because there’s always room for more shoes in my shoe closet and more friends in my home.

 

Save the Letter December 11, 2011

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:07 am
Tags: , , , ,

Shoes to write home about. Photo by Jean Thornton.

This week the United States Post Office announced sweeping changes in an effort to save the Post Office from bankruptcy.  While many think these changes will perhaps only delay mail service and increase the cost of stamps, I am fearful that perhaps the art of writing a letter could be real victim.  This week I am re-posting about the style of writing a letter.  Perhaps it will inspire you to write one or two…

 

Dear Sir or Madame,

This week I am taking a moment to write to you about an element of style that one will not find in your closet, dresser, or jewelry box.   I am stomping my stilettos for a piece of good taste and elegance that is fading.  OurUnited States’ Post Office is in jeopardy of becoming extinct and with it the tradition of handwritten letters are going too.  While this may not seem like a fashion issue, good manners and proper correspondence are always in style.  Just like a pair of black patent leather pumps, a hand-written letter delivered by our friendly postal person is a classic reflection of American chic-ness. 

Now I am the first person to admit that the Post Office has frustrated me in the past.  I will not dredge up issues that are better left among junk mailings from Pier One; but it is enough to say that I have also been frustrated by increased postage rates, long lines to mail a present, and even a random and confusing re-direction of my mail one November.  But today I come to you to plead the case of mail in its purest form: the letter. 

Remember when mail was fun?  When it was all birthday cards and postcards from friends on vacations?  When you opened a letter from your grandmother and a well-worn five dollar bill fell out?  Those were the days before our mailboxes contained credit card bills and cell phone statements, when we were not constantly bombarded with promises of lower insurance rates and 20% off coupons from Bed,Bath, and Beyond….honestly who is buying that much stuff for the bed or bath, or beyond?

In these modern days when many of us carry our Blackberries and I-Phones loaded with our multiple email accounts, the ability to text message and even Facebook, it is clear why many have abandoned the art of old-fashioned letter writing.  Most of us may struggle to even find a stamp when it comes time to respond to the rare bill that is not accepted by online payment.  Convenience is killing letter writing. 

I am not proclaiming that we hearken back to the old days of pressing a wax seal against the lip of an envelope, but there is value beyond the current rate of postage in writing an occasional letter or two.  A handwritten letter is like the perfect Hermes bag or a simple strand of pearls; it is the difference between an outfit and “a look.”  Like Jackie O’s oversized glasses, a graceful slopping cursive ‘M’ starting a Mrs., Mr., Miss., or Ms. and the ending a flourish after a zip code scribed across a small, colored envelop is  a demonstration of taste.

Think of the cards you have tucked into drawers, hidden in the back of yearbooks and photo albums.  What do they say; what moments do they commemorate?  Perhaps there is a graduation announcement from high school next to the card your grandmother wrote, expressing her pride and hope for your future.  Maybe there is a birthday card from a college friend who time has separated from you.  If you are lucky, there might be a love letter of sorts from a flame possibly extinguished now, or it represents a love still strong.  One day, sadly, these letters and the words scribbled on Hallmark Cards and stationary could be the only sample of handwriting left by those who loved us the most.  And long after we can’t hear them say our names or “I love you”, we hold onto those declarations and the everyday statements quickly jotted at the end of note meant just to say hello.

And while there are cards that you surely have saved, if you are lucky there are cards you have sent that are equally treasured by those recipients.   The card we mailed to mark a holiday or other special moment for a loved one, may just be the simple gesture that brings a smile to our grandparents’, parents’, or siblings’ faces.  Ask any solider and I am sure they will tell you that a letter, simple and thoughtful, from someone back home describing ordinary moments is worth far more than 44¢. 

Since the days of the Pony Express there has been nothing more worth the wait than a piece of mail sent, not because it requires urgent attention, but because it is meant to share or perhaps provide some cheer.  Yes, there is great importance in the mail; it says things we did not realize we want to say.  There might be quicker, easier ways to communicate in a world of Skype and internet hype.  Waiting at the Post Office may cause us to tap our pumps and shift in our sling-backs; use your Blackberry to pass the time.  Trust me, the minutes spent there will be worth continuing the tradition and art of writing a letter, and it will certainly keep you classically stylish. 

Sincerely,

The Island Shoe Girl XOXO

 

Skip This Ad December 4, 2011

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:05 am
Tags: , , , , ,

Who would skip an ad for these fabulous heels? Photo by Jean Thornton

As a die-hard fashion lover, I digest my fair share of fashionable reading.  It ranges from glossy-paged magazines, to biographies on designers, to blogs, to online magazines and newspapers that proclaim to be the end all guide for all of my fashion needs.  All of these fashion sources have a cost and some have a significant amount of advertisement.  Now I love a shoe advertisement probably far more than the next girl, but some of these ads are simply out of control.

I understand completely that nothing comes for free.   There is no free ride on the catwalk of life and delivering fashion insight and news is certainly no exception.  But at times I feel that these ads have spiraled out of control.  No matter if I am reading—the Fashion section of the New York Times or skimming a website—it seems that I cannot avoid an advertiser intruding on my pleasure time. 

When it comes to magazines I will gladly pay a price to have fashion at my finger tips, ready whenever I need it whether that be on a plane, on a train, or while waiting for a doctor’s appointment.  Tell me as many times as you want about the convenience of an electronic book, you will not win over this lover of pages.  It’s like telling me to wear a ballet flat; sorry, I am a stiletto girl and there’s no way around it.  Just the same, I am a real live paper-between-my-fingers girl.  (Plus, I think one of the most stylish accessories is a book cover that reveals a little bit about its reader.)

The advantage of advertisements in print is the ease with which one can choose to stop and observe or move along.  Some fashion advertisements are as informative, thought provoking, and attractive as some articles and photo spreads in those same magazines.  There is also the added bonus of being able to fold down a corner on the ad for those new Prada pumps with a casually scribbled shoe size for subtle birthday shopping hints. 

As a little girl I loved newspaper ads.  I would sprawl on the family room floor each Sunday and look through all the shopping flyers that were stuffed inside our Sunday paper, planning an imaginary shopping trip to my favorite stores.  Of course as an adult many times these are still imaginary trips since living on a mall-less island prevents such weekend shopping sprees.  Yet, these advertisements fuel my luxury-filled dreams. 

But in today’s online world, the happy web surfer is bombarded with advertisements.  Try to read a story online about Elizabeth Taylor’s Estate Auction and you’ll find yourself bidding on ways to avoid pop-up ads.  Some of the pop-ups even have pop-ups!  One advertisement blocking my view had the nerve to say “your requested video will play in 5 seconds” as it download an unwanted image onto my screen.  My requested video!  When did I click the “annoy me with advertisements” box?

Not only do these advertisements insert themselves into my online life, they almost stalk me across the World Wide Web.  Look at a Kate Spade bag online this morning but don’t be shocked if an ad for it lingers along the side of your inbox while you check your email.  And that cute little clutch just might follow you to your favorite gossip site as well.  Next thing you know that bag is stalking you when you Google driving directions. 

Perhaps these advertisements wouldn’t be so frustrating if some sites did not limit your time without a subscription.  So after clicking “skip this ad” twenty times while trying to read up on this winter’s scarf trends, you get a notice that says, “Your free views have been exceeded for the month, click here to subscribe for unlimited access.”  And thus another advertisement has blocked me from my supposedly free reading.  Of course if you add up all the time I spent clicking ‘close’, ‘skip this ad’, or suffering through an annoying advertisement for something I don’t really want, I have more than paid for the pleasure of reading that article. 

Thus a shoe girl like me resorts back to good old-fashioned….fashion magazines.  Sure there are still advertisements and I run the risk of paper cuts, but at least I can drool over Chanel mules without a pop-up advertisement offering to tell me the meaning of my name.  The only name I want to know the meaning of is the one stamped on the soles of my stilettos.  And that you can advertise!

 

 
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.