The Island Shoe Girl's Blog

A shoe girl can frequently find herself trapped when the love of her shoes outweighs the need to be some place—especially if getting there might cause great damage to her shoes.  I found myself in such a predicament this week.  One of the hazards of living on an island (not to mention one that lacks elevation) is that when it rains, it pours and when it pours, it floods.  And when it floods, this shoe girl don’t budge… particularly when wearing designer heels. 

It all started with the monthly meeting of the Stiletto Society here in Key West.   I had arrived early to help set up as needed and to drink a glass of wine before the bar got crowded with my fellow shoe lovers.  Shortly after seven, the dark clouds that had hung over Key West all day decided to let loose.  While many of my fellow society members dashed up the stairs from taxicabs, it quickly became clear that the streets were flooding fast. 

Being a fan of rain boots, I embrace a day with puddles, but not when out on the streets in stunning evening shoes.  And since this month’s theme was “Sparkle Heels” most of us had more bling-bling on our soles than Paul Simon’s song, “Diamonds on Soles of Her Shoes”.   Thus, those of us tucked safely inside were happy to be so.  The rain presented a brief break, allowing some others to join us before it started up once again.  Undeterred we continued with our monthly rituals: shoe talk, wine drinking, and of course the shoe walk-off. 

As our regular events came to a close, the clouds continue to pour water onto the streets and sidewalks.  Here is an important survival tip: if one is suddenly rained in, make sure you are trapped in a room loaded with wine and good friends… the dessert trays weren’t bad either.  While the minutes kept ticking, the wine kept flowing and the laughter kept coming.  I could not help but notice that no one really seemed in a great hurry to get anywhere.

In the grand scheme of things, the rain outside really wasn’t trapping anyone; each of us could have easily secured a cab or make it to our cars without too much damage.  After all, most clothes do dry and even a shoe can survive a little bit of weather.  But sometimes it just seems like we need an excuse to stay a little longer, a reason not to hurry home.  I have no doubts that everyone there had other things to do.  There was laundry to be washed at someone’s home, dishes to be scrubbed, and most likely a school lunch to be packed.  Yet, everyone seemed very pleased to just be where they were a little bit longer.

We live in a modern world where time never seems to stand still but plows ahead at full speed and the calendar changes faster than one might like.   Every now and then we need an excuse to not notice the clock on the wall, the watch on our wrist, or the time on our phones.  Instead we like the excuse, “It’s raining and I don’t want to get my shoes wet,” to keep us safely stranded in our stilettos surrounded by friends.

All good things must come to end and with thirty plus folks drinking wine, we surely would have cleared out a few wine racks in no time.  We all had to accept the reality that, once the rain delay was over, we all had to return to our regular, scheduled lives.  But it is nice to know when I see a rain cloud overhead, it just might be the reason I need to kick up my stilettos and stay for another glass of wine.

My love affair with shoes started young and my ability to get shoes shortly thereafter. Obviously a young child’s income is limited as is the ability to go buy shoes. Thus my early years of shoe collecting relied heavily upon my parents. While the ever-growing foot of a child is often reason enough to get one pair of new shoes, in order to take home a whole stash of shoes you have to know how work it.

I have long told those young children who try to pout, cry and look pathetic in my presence in order to get their way that they are attempting to sway the inventor of those techniques. I proudly inform these youngsters, as they attempt to coerce me with sad eyes, that they can sell it somewhere else. After all I once got a NYC shopping trip for prom, trying to break me for ice cream is small!

My parents should not take all of the blame; as a youngster I was too damn cute to resist. Hello, big blue eyes and freckles—I was flipping adorable. Being the youngest and only girl also helped; with two smelly older brothers how can you tell a girl she cannot have 3 pairs of Jellies? I know I am not alone in my slightly indulged ways; I have many friends who were also raised as princesses. I believe firmly it is a sign of a good dad; of course I believe the reason I did not become a spoiled brat was because I lived with the Queen. My mother definitely would put a stop to anything too extravagant but also would let just enough get by to make me feel special.

But every little girl must grow up and that is true for shoe girls as well. Just as once we take our first steps we want our first shoes, once we get our first jobs we want to buy our shoes. The tricks that used to be applied for wrangling one more pair of shoes or a little extra for the back-to-school shopping budget become less effective with age and time. Sure college gives you a little boost—distance can make the heart and the budget grow fonder.

Soon enough, however you will be a full-fledged, rent-paying, checkbook-balancing, adult, and the days of getting by on looking cute and being funny quickly come to an end. As a grown up shoe girl, you have to use your mind far more than that sad expression that used to get you an extra pair of lacy socks. It takes far more to get those extra shoes as a grown up, and it generally means putting in the extra hours at work and pushing yourself harder up the ladder. Trust me, climbing any ladder, work ladder or not, is really hard in stilettos.

At the end of most days your brain will hurt more than your toes. However, the shoes seem a little sweeter when you earn them the hard way and not because you looked cute. Maybe it is with age that we master those taller stilettos or maybe it is with personal success that we truly learn how to carry ourselves in those shoes and through life. Yet, I still appreciate the shoes that are given as gifts (…hint, hint Dad). I know they are not an insult to my own ability to buy own shoes but that they are more so a reflection that I am still a princess and, yes, a little girl to someone.

As every good grown up shoe girl knows, a sweet smile might get you a little more but some well thought out words from that same mouth will take you further. A sly wink could grab someone’s attention; however, looking someone straight in the eye will hold it. And a big bow on shoe will always make a statement… that one is true at any age.

The Island Shoe Girl was busy doing shoe research on the mainland this week. As every good shoe girl knows, there’s no place like home or your shoe closet. Here’s a favorite from the Island Shoe Girl closet as she tries to figure out where to put all those new shoes! Enjoy!

With three little clicks of her heels, a star was born! No, not a movie star, since Judy Garland was well on her way to being the original celebrity meltdown, but a shoe star was born. Dorothy, the pioneer shoe girl, skipped her way into the hearts of women around the world and across generations by proving that the secret to life and happiness could be found in a pair of flashy red heels. Any shoe girl who needs to prove the value of every pair of shoes she ever splurged on, need only look to Dorothy for justification and guidance.

Long before Carrie Bradshaw danced along Manhattan streets and fell in out-of-love with Mr. Big, Aiden, and sampled a few others, Dorothy was strutting along the Yellow Brick Road with three men in tow—all willing to follow the whims of a girl who wasn’t really sure where she was going or how she intended to get there. Ever since she batted her eyes, pouted her lower lip, and put three complete strangers under her thumb, women everywhere have learned that these tricks paired with a great pair of shoes can make men into… well cowardly lions, thoughtless scarecrows, and even tin men in search of the ability to love.

Dorothy’s world pre-shoes was drab and gray, living on the family farm with an Aunt who is willing to off her little Toto. (I hate to be harsh, but that twister was a blessing in disguise! I would have stood in a field and hoped for a soft landing in New York City.) But Dorothy’s world after red shoes turned bright and colorful, suddenly filled with hero worship that inspired impromptu musical numbers by little people as well as a potential career a hit woman.

On top of the parade and the new friendship with The Lollipop Guild, Dorothy also got kudos from a real live good witch. Not only do the Good Witch and residents of Munchkinland love Dorothy for simply showing up at the right time, but they also hand over magic shoes. You can’t buy that kind of friendship—trust me, I’ve tried! It does not matter how fabulous your entrance might be at Niemen Marcus, you will never be given the only pair of coveted heels for free.

For a girl who has no clue where she is or how she got there, that Dorothy is a real go-getter and quite the navigator as well. With minimal directions and instructions—and no modern-day GPS system—Dorothy hits the road with the zeal and gusto of a woman who has never had a blister from breaking in a new pair of shoes. Along the way Dorothy picks up a collection of men with issues, from the inability to think clearly or feel emotions, to the act of standing up for oneself. I have to say I think I have dated all of these guys at some time or another but I wouldn’t dare go on a road trip with all three at once. More power to you, Dorothy!

If you thought that being picked up in a tornado and dropped off in a mythical land might be on the verge of bad luck, consider that in order to get back home (not that I would be rushing back to that dirt farm myself) you have to battle a Wicked Witch, who is obsessed with stealing your shoes. I can certainly relate in this instance, as I feel most of the world is after my own fabulous footwear. But imagine saving the Land of Oz from not one but TWO Wicked Witches only to find that the Wizard is actually a fraud hiding behind a curtain. Dorothy, welcome to the world of disappointing men. All that talk and he doesn’t even know how to get you home, which is why, wherever your travels land you, make sure to get the number for a taxi company.

Thank goodness for good friends, especially when they are Good Witches. Leave it to Glinda to give Dorothy the advice that every shoe girl knows deep down inside: your shoes always had the power all along; you just have to feel it for yourself. And that is a lesson every shoe girl should take with her. Life’s journeys may drop you in unexpected places and leave you surrounded by strangers in a strange land, but it’s how you skip down the Yellow Brick Road that really matters.

There is one final lesson: It is great to make a good entrance, but an amazing exit is always a thousand times more important as it keeps the people wanting more. Dorothy made no mistakes here as she left with an all-time great tag line, “there’s no place like home.” I would have probably said “there’s no shoes like Manolos”, but hey every shoe girl has her own style and hopefully her own Ruby Red Slippers too.

If you have driven along Florida’s eastern coast then you have most likely seen something named “Flagler.” There are a lot of great reasons that Henry Flagler’s name marks so many landmarks, buildings, statues, and parks across the state of Florida. As the story goes, after a relaxing trip to St. Augustine, Flagler became one of the first wealthy Americans to visualize retiring to the state. At that time, however, there was not a whole lot to retire to—no outlet malls, golf courses, early bird specials, plus limited highways for miles of slow driving with a turn indicator on. And yet, Henry saw potential along our shores.

Over the years, Flagler invested millions in the Sunshine State, most notably developing West Palm and Miami into the major cities they are today as well as connecting the rest of the world with a little sleepy island called Key West via the Overseas Railroad. Continuing his good sense, Henry also made sure that the train didn’t just drop visitors off at a beach and trading post; he developed luxury hotels complete with restaurants and primitive spas…what? you think pedicures were invented yesterday?

Henry Flagler’s efforts have allowed another pioneer of sorts to reach Key West and this one has big plans for innovation too. Well, I guess you could call them tall plans. You see, this Island Shoe Girl likes to think of herself as having a little bit of the Henry Flagler’s spirit in her. While Henry focused on the expansion of the railroad and the development of the state through tourism and the fruit industry, I like to focus on the expansion of heels.

Just as Henry faced backlash to some of his ideas, I too have been criticized and discouraged for my dream of making Key West an island of high heels. Despite my continued efforts to educate the good people of this sandy island, I still find my heels…well…sinking into the sand sometimes. I carry on, leading by example, and always wearing a trusty pair of heels as I roam around this rock. But at times I wonder if old Henry Flagler couldn’t offer a little bit of advice on how bring my vision to reality in the Florida Keys.

I have already taken to the airwaves with my message of happy toes by hosting my weekly radio show “Fashion Friday”, pleading with the masses to accessorize with a kitten heel at the very least. There is also this blog and my contributions to the Konk Life weekly magazine. All three offer insights on how to strut in sand while remaining elevated, not to mention my gentle reminders to anyone who will listen about the importance of shoe height.

And yet, everyday I see flat feet walking around my island. It makes me wonder if I can ever succeed in my efforts to spread the good shoe word. Could I be doomed to a life without the joy of shoe watching? Will I be remembered as a Stiletto Trendsetter or a Flip Flop Failure?

I look no further than Henry Flagler when in doubt. After all, his Overseas Railroad was initially called “Flagler’s Folly” by many naysayers who saw the project as impossible at worst and too expensive at best. (Oddly enough, the same thing has been said about my shoes!) It is true that his original railroad lasted only 23 years, heavily damaged in the Hurricane of 1935. But that infrastructure became the start of the Overseas Highway which today still carries me and many others to and from Key West in search of shoe sales.

And while I might be just a shoe girl with really fabulous amazing stilettos today, maybe my shoe closet will be the Island Shoe Girl Museum of tomorrow. Perhaps in the future a monument in my honor will be placed in front of city hall, and if that does happen, please do not let any pigeons poop on me! Perhaps in another time, the little Stiletto Society that started here in Key West will be a national organization that not only supports the high heel wearers of the world but also helps pair a handbag or two.

If any of these things become reality, you can tell them I owe it all to Henry Flagler—with a little help from Manolo Blahnik, Jimmy Choo, and friends.