The Island Shoe Girl's Blog

Where shoes meet sand…

Shoe Psychosis January 22, 2012

Filed under: Its All About the Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:53 am
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Who wouldn't go crazy with shoes like these? Photo by Jean Thornton.

Ever see a pair of heels that make you say, “I want to put you on my feet and wear you now?”  I do—almost every time I see a pair of amazing heels.  If there is a Casedia sale on Ruelala.com all I can think is ‘I want to put you on my feet’.  When an email lands in my inbox boosting a shoe sale at Niemen Marcus Last Call, my toes curl with anticipation.  Heaven forbid if I find myself in the clearance room of a department store shoe section—I can turn into a real stiletto-psychopath.  Another shopper might politely ask if I am done with a pair of shoes and I have to edit my natural urge to explain I am not done with the entire rack and who said she could come in this room anyway!

It’s like I have OCD or OCSS (Obsessive Compulsive Shoe Shopping); I never ever get enough.  Most people reserve the phrase “took my breath away” for the first time they see a spouse or their child.  Me, I use it to describe how I feel when I am near designer shoes.   No matter how hard I try to control my desires, I find myself frequently out of control.  This is a realization I came to during the post-holiday season sales after calculating my total shoe intake in less then 3 weeks as 12 pairs.  Apparently this is more shoes than most people buy all year. 

I have no will power when I am faced with rows upon rows of stilettos, pumps, wedges, and sling-backs all calling my name from their cozy shoeboxes.  They beckon me to just try them on, no commitment, no promises to buy…just slip them on for a minute and see how they feel.  See how their arches feel against the bottom of my foot.  See how their leather straps wrap around my ankles.  See how they would complement every single piece of clothing that I own or could ever desire to own. 

These little shoe voices whisper softly in my ear, “oh we go together so well.”  And I am left breathless by how right those shoes are.  I am also frequently forced to live on a shoe string budget because of those same shoes… oh the irony of a girl who hates tennis shoes to be forced to live on a budget named after them!   Perhaps these little shoe voices could get me a diagnosis of shoe-schizophrenia.  But who would want a cure for an infliction that makes my toes look oh so good?

I might honestly have an unknown shoe psychosis that has yet to be acknowledged by the American Psychological Association or the Diagnostic Manual’s latest edition.  Treatment option could be limited; group therapy would probably only fuel my habits.  A group of women sitting around talking about shoes… yeah, that’s helping—especially if they are a similar shoe size.  I couldn’t face  treatment from a therapist with bad shoes. And electroshock therapy would likely only make my hair frizzy.  There might be prescription medications that could help control these urges, but what if they had unpleasant side effects like not wanting to buy shoes? 

Thus I find there is no hope for me except to continue to manage my illness the best way I know how.  With more shoes of course!  Some might say I am shoe crazy, but I wonder if maybe you are in a shoe depressive state of sorts.   Maybe the whole world is insane from lack of shoes and my fellow shoe lovers and I are the only truly “normal” ones. 

Okay, I am pushing it.  I can hear groans of disgust through your computer screens as you read this.  Luckily for me I let the voices of my shoes drown out the voices of my detractors.  So I seek comfort in my shoe closet where the voices say, “We are so glad you brought us home…you should go back to the store and get a few more of our friends.”

 

Life Lessons with The Island Shoe Girl November 20, 2011

Filed under: Its All About the Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 10:59 am
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An important life lesson...a Manolo can go a long way. Photo by Jean Thornton.

The other day an acquaintance at a meeting casually mentioned that she would be catching up on some shows on her DVR.  When I asked what shows she had on stand by (expecting something of quality viewing like some of the Real Housewives franchise), she told that she was watching Oprah’s Life Lessons.   This caught my interest because I had thought the competition between Oprah and I for who would be America’s most influential woman was at a standstill with the end of her show. 

But Oprah has restarted the race with her new show, which just so happens to be on her own television station, OWN.  If you ask me, this comes across as a little “me-ish”.  Apparently, one of the OWN’s shows is Oprah sitting around talking about her talk show and what she learned from each episode…a little life lesson!  Get it?  If not, I am sure Oprah will sit down and talk you through it.  Similarly, if you didn’t get the extremely high level of thought Oprah used in her afternoon talk show, she will break it down for you to a level even easier for you to comprehend. 

I must admit I have never watched one of Oprah’s Life Lessons.  I somehow have a feeling that these lessons would not be very helpful in my own life, seeing as how Oprah and I have a vast differences in our lifestyles, our economic standing, and more than likely, Oprah’s closet is the size of my entire apartment…in her weekend house.  I am guessing that the overall lesson of Life Lessons is that Oprah can get people to watch reruns of her talk show, sell advertisements for it like it’s a new show, and make even more money without very high production costs. 

I figure if Oprah can do it then why not me?  Okay, not me because first of all, I don’t have my own television show, let alone television network.  Secondly because I don’t think I have the same following. I am basing this on the fact that when I recommend a book, I generally lend it to a friend, not make it a best seller.   However, I do have this blog; so I figure this can be the starting point of my own set of life lessons…take that Oprah!

Life Lesson #1:  Once you start buying designer shoes, it’s hard to go back.  This can be an expensive lesson to learn.  Let’s face it, once you go Manolo, you can’t go back.  When you become accustomed to nicer and nicer things it’s hard to appreciate the slightly less nice things.  So take your time when acquiring more expensive shoes; like growing up too fast, you can’t go back once you’ve worn a Prada pump.

Life Lesson #2:  There’s always a bigger shoe closet out there.  You might think you might have the biggest or the best shoe closet, but let’s face it—somewhere out there is a bigger, better shoe closet.  You can’t compare your shoe closets to others; it will only frustrate you.  Instead seek to create the shoe closet that makes you happy.

Life Lesson #3:  A good cobbler is a hard to find.  There are some things in life that are plentiful: cheap wine, red nail polish, and Lifetime movies.  But cobblers are like parking spaces—you can’t find a good one when you really need it.  A cobbler should be treated like a good friend…good friends that can save your favorite pair of Stuart Weitzman’s.  And really, if you have a friend that can do that, you are a lucky girl.

My 4th and final Life Lesson: Never give away all your lessons at once!  Hey! A girl’s gotta keep a few tricks up her sleeve or in her knee-high boots.  If I give them all away here and now, why would you keep coming back to this blog?  I am sure Oprah has a whole vault of her life lesson programs tucked away somewhere in case she needs a Christmas Special or something.  Besides aren’t the best lessons in life the ones you learn on your own… notice that’s a little ‘own’ and not Oprah’s OWN.

 

How to Survive in Stilettos November 6, 2011

Filed under: Its All About the Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:45 am
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It's survival of the fittest in these LAMB stilettos. Photo by Jean Thornton

They say that in moments of true emergency we are overcome with the unique ability to survive…but what about our shoes?  Occasionally I am asked about various shoe survival strategies.  Whether it’s avoiding blisters or how to walk in sand with heels, there is clearly a need for a guide to surviving life’s less shoe-friendly moments.  This week a reader emailed me asking my opinion on a film clip of women fleeing a sinking boat into shark infested waters.  Along the way at least one lost her shoes, begging the question how do your shoes survive an emergency?  Remember, I am only a professional shoe wearer, not a professional survival guide.

How to Survive a Bear Attack in Stilettos:

Even in the best of situations, out running a bear is unlikely and not advised.  In stilettos it’s probably never going to happen!  If you happen to have “Bear Spray” in your cute Coach clutch you can try spraying the bear.  Since I usually only carry a little Chanel Number 5, it would really have to be a classy bear to be subdued by this method.  Conventional bear escape wisdom advises laying stomach down with fingers laced over your neck and basically playing dead.  Seeing how even my Jack Russell Terrier has not mastered this game, I am not sure there is much hope for a really terrified shoe girl to do so calmly.  If by chance your freshly perfumed bear decides to wander away, stay on the ground for 20 minutes, which would be a good time to count your blessings and rethink this whole nature girl thing.

It’s important to note that bears, like shoes, come in many colors and styles.  The above tips are good for a Brown Bear.  When it comes to Blacks Bears it is supposedly better to fight back; maybe this is where pointy-spiked heels could come in handy.  With Polar Bears, you are pretty much screwed.  Due to declining sea ice, they are forced to hunt on solid ground.  Thus most are hungry and playing dead might just speed up the whole eating you process and fighting back might be equally fruitless.  In these cases, all I can say is why the heck are you near a polar bear in the first place, and I hope he doesn’t eat your designer heels too. 

How to Survive a Zombie Attack in Stilettos:

There are many schools of thought on the best way to survive a zombie attack.  The first debate might be whether to stay where you are or flee to safety… if safety is available. I mean, hey, who’s to say a zombie attack would be limited to one specific area.  If your home is super zombie secure and they cannot easily break windows and climb inside, you might just think about defending your home front and shoe closet.  If you choose to flee, consider that in most zombie movies your car keys are never where you put them last, so you might have to escape on foot, making a Kenneth Cole heel with the air soles much more attractive. 

Whether you are going to stay or go, you will need some survival items: plenty of fresh water, canned goods (& can opener, of course), flashlights, and some nail polish for touch-ups. (It’s a battle against the undead, but still no need to look unkempt).  You also have to think about shoe repair; a supply of replacement heel tips; and some super glue might come in handy.  If you are running for your life in stilettos, I recommend you run in Manolo’s.  Not only will a pair of Manolo’s offer you that classic chic style one wants when fleeing flesh-craving zombies, but they also are pretty darn comfortable.  I also suggest a pair of Mary Jane for the added support of an ankle strap. 

How to Survive an Emergency Plane Landing in Stilettos:

When Flight 1549 safely landed on the Hudson River after being struck by a flock of birds, many were overcome with amazement as 155 occupants were rescued from the plane’s wings.  While others praised God for sparing those souls, I found myself racked with worry over how I would have gotten my soles off a plane in such a situation. I could easily visualize myself telling dear Captain Sully I just needed a minute to grab my Prada pumps from my carry-on bag and then wobbling in my Dolce & Gabbana stilettos as I balanced on that plane wing.  

This is why I recommend keeping all of your shoes in a carry-on that can be stowed under the seat in front of you so you can easily grab them should an emergency landing become necessary.  Passports and credit cards can be replaced, vintage Jimmy Choo’s cannot.  If it should be necessary to use the inflatable slide, I suggest taking off those spiked heels prior to sliding.  No one likes a shoe girl who pops the emergency exit slide!

How to Survive a Sinking Boat and Shark Attack in Stilettos:

After reviewing this scenario in my head, I have to say I am not sure what advice to give.  Just trying to survive this scenario barefoot would be hard enough, but to keep on stilettos while trying to swim to dry land with a shark in pursuit just seems almost impossible.  So the best advice I can offer is to avoid boats in shark-infested waters if this situation concerns you.  You can’t win them all, at least not in stilettos. 

There you go—my survival guide for life in stilettos.  And please use common sense when applying these strategies.  After all, you are listening to a girl who considers not having enough red strappy heels an absolute crisis.

 

Real Women vs. Real Designers September 25, 2011

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 8:39 am
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Heels that are both runway and real women worthy. Photo by Jean Thornton

In fashion you are either in or you are out—or at least that’s what Heidi Klum tells us.  And it’s true that fashion moves faster than almost everything else, a point proven by the fact that the Spring 2012 clothing lines have been shown even before the official start of Fall 2011.  So I realize that this blog is already a bit out of style and perhaps more than a day late.  But this issue has bothered me so much over the last week that I felt a need to risk being yesterday’s fashion news.

About a week ago Project Runway gave its designers the challenge to design clothes for an “everyday woman.”  Each designer was paired with a woman’s boyfriend or husband to help plan an outfit that each woman would love.  All of the designers were instantly terrified at the thought of designing for a woman who might actually not be the same size as a dress form and then even more so frightened by the limited knowledge their “helpers” had when it came to determining what types of clothing or styles each woman preferred.  Their only relief was that they were not designing men’s wear… yet.

One designer, Oliver, seemed to have the hardest time accepting the challenge.  Oliver became mortified at the fact that his model had breasts, and not just any boobs but large breasts.   Oliver’s first plan seemed to be to just ignore that his model has breasts all together, but his helper’s persistent referencing to his wife’s breasts blew this whole plan. 

Things were only made worse for Oliver when his real woman/model showed up and not only had breasts but also opinions and the ability to speak.  At no point was his model rude or demanding, but she did express real concerns about Oliver’s design and how it would look and function on her body.  This is where Oliver stopped being a troublesome reality show contestant and started being…well, an asshole…and Oliver explains to the camera that he would really just like to design for women with no breasts, opinions, or voices. 

That might seem like the ranting of a frustrated designer unable to create the perfect outfit for a client, but the more I thought about it the more disturbing his words became.  Oliver wasn’t frustrated that he couldn’t find a common vision or make his client feel good in the clothes he was designing.  Instead he was complaining about the very things that make women, women.

What’s sad about this for me is that Oliver skated by the judges; they didn’t hear how horrifically he treated the very concept of designing for women.  Here on a show where the whole concept is creating beautiful garments for women to be bought by women, Oliver, who presumably hopes to one day be a successful women’s designer (he is after all on Project Runway!) was able to degrade women in such a deadpan display to the camera. 

At the end of this episode, Oliver made it safely to the next round.  The judges never questioned Oliver’s real-life model and husband about their experience working with him.  And when the other contestants commented he was lucky to have made it through this week, Oliver was both without emotion and appeared unaware that he had not truly fulfilled the spirit of the challenge or the show.  Thus, in some small way, real women everywhere took a step back off the runways of life and were put back on the sidelines to watch. 

I wonder if the judges who were not privy to Oliver’s comments at the time of taping saw them later and felt just a little twinge of worry.  Did they as people who have successfully launched careers based on selling beautiful fashions to women (of all shapes and sizes as Michael Kors does design beyond a size 2) take any pause at what Oliver said?  Did they worry that maybe a designer like that could hold back women’s fashions?  Or did they not find Oliver’s comments or challenge designing for a real women concerning at all? 

Let’s be honest, most models who strut the Fashion Weeks’ runways are not the same size as the majority of women in the world.  For many ‘real’ women, the sidewalks, offices, and little places where we spend our days are the only runways we get to grace.  It would be sad to think that someday a designer could take those runways away too.

 

One Woman’s Fashion… July 31, 2011

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:01 am
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A chic YSL heel is always in good taste. Photo by Jean Thornton

A new boutique opened on the island recently.  Because shopping opportunities are limited in Key West, a new boutique is very exciting news.  As soon as the signs announcing the new store’s arrival went up, I started receiving text messages, phone calls, and comments from my friends who know how much I enjoy the shopping experience.  There was also a rumor that the name included the word “chic!”  My little fashion heart was racing.

On the day the window displays were revealed, however, my heart slowed to a dull thud.  In my opinion, there was clearly a serious misuse of the word “chic” to say the least.  There were no simple black sheaths with large over-sized necklaces, no carefully paired tailored skirts and fitted tops, and certainly no use of editing to emphasize sophistication.  Yet some women had referred me to this new boutique, claiming it had the cutest things, which made me wonder if perhaps there was some type of eye disease breaking out on the island causing tacky clothing to look chic to those afflicted. 

I will be the first to admit I have my prejudices against some fashion elements.  I have a distaste for leggings worn as pants and have taken a firm stance with my support of the “Leggings Are Not Pants” movement.  It is true I do not support the use of Uggs in any temperature or climate.  I cannot tolerate Crocs, a well-known fact.  And seersucker suits!  Forget about it!  I understand that there are certain types of shoes and clothing that I will never consider fashionable.  All this leads me to develop the fashion philosophy that one woman’s chic is another woman’s hot pink tube top, making me question how good and bad fashion can vary so much amongst women.

The perfect example of fashion worlds colliding is watching TLC’s newest spinoff to Say Yes to the Dress: Bridesmaids.  As if watching a bride sweat out one of the most important fashion decisions of her life while her mother, sister, future in-laws, and obviously jealous friend rip apart her dream wedding dress was not enough?  Now TLC gives the bride a chance to put her wedding party in the same hot seat, except now five women are pitted against each other in an attempt to look their best in taffeta.  Despite that these women all share, at a minimum, a common friend and perhaps are friends with each other as individuals, they all have different ideas of which one is the best dress.  Generally, the bickering pushes the bride to the point where she just picks something that will make her look better by making each bridesmaid look their worst. 

Maybe it is the vocabulary of fashion that confuses people.  As Bravo’s Real Housewives of Orange County showed us, just because you claim to be a designer doesn’t mean you actually know how to design, sew or use basic fashion definitions.  The blonde one with fake breasts…wait that doesn’t narrow it down very… well, one of them claimed to have created a couture clothing line.  Then she could not explain what couture meant; instead, she babbled a little and then was distracted by a shiny object.

Perhaps the mistake of bad fashion being mistaken as good fashion is generational.  In high school and college it seems like such a good idea to have a words printed on the butt of our pants.  Some people as adults wear playful kittens on their shirts or a concert shirt boasting the image of country singer.  Hey! I like Kenny Chesney too but I don’t wear his picture on my chest.   And let’s not forget the “yoga pants when you are not going to yoga look” that seems to plague women in their 30’s.  Men are not immune from bad fashion either, far from it, Mr. Inappropriate souvenir t-shirt wearer. 

But all these thoughts and attempts to understand how bad fashion happens are lost while staring a glaringly neon green halter top paired with hot pants that even made that poor mannequin look fat.  As I abandon the hope I had for a great new shopping destination, I had two thoughts: the first being that chic is in the eye of the beholder—or at least the wearer.  And second, thank God there is a liquor right next to this chic mess.

 

An Accidental Beauty Queen July 24, 2011

Filed under: Key West; Not Just for Flip Flops — theislandshoegirl @ 8:24 am
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tiara, sash and stilettos... the makings of an accidental beauty queen.

For most women, there are certain things in life that, if they do not occur by a certain age, you accept that they will not happen at all.  Let’s face it—if you are not a cheerleader by the end of high school, it probably isn’t happening.  If you have not mastered dancing in toe shoes by the time you are 21 years old, you most likely can put your prima ballerina career on the shelf.  And if you are not a beauty queen by age 23 you should stop practicing your “surprised” face for when you are crowned Miss America.  Or so I used to think…

I am an accidental beauty queen.  And at an age that is not really old (I am still in my 20s), but it IS well past that of every contestant in the Miss America pageant in recent years. It was years ago when I last watched any part of that pageant, and, like most women, I have other things to do with my evening than watch model-perfect bodies glide across a shiny stage.  But the last time I did watch, I distinctly remember realizing that at age 25, I was out of the running.  (According to the Miss America website you must be between the ages of 17 and 24 to compete.)  Yet, over the last year I have been on the strange path that has led to a sash, a tiara, and of course—a title. 

It all started a little over a year ago when a friend called late one afternoon and encouraged me to enter a local bikini contest for Miss Atocha, happening that evening.  The Miss Atocha contest is the kickoff for Mel Fisher Days, a yearly celebration of the well-known and loved treasure hunter in Key West, Florida.  Despite the fabulous prizes that included a large emerald and some prize money, I was hesitant for many reasons.  The first is that I generally don’t walk around public in a bikini, and the second is that my diet pretty much consists of cheese, cheese, and more cheese.  I graciously declined the offer…and then was continuously teased by my friends for refusing to enter.  In an effort to put them off, I agreed to enter “next year.”

Wouldn’t you know it—next year showed up 12 months later.   Unfortunately, my friends have good memories and did not forget my hastily made promise.  Since I knew I was trapped, I decided to be proactive and began a strict no cheese, no hot dogs, no subs, no greasy burgers—basically anything I loved to eat was off the menu.  Protein shakes can be a potential bikini contestant’s best friend.  Luckily, Miss Atocha is also based on how much money the contestants raise.  Now I could force my same friends who held me to my word to open their wallets.  Raising money for a good cause I am not afraid of; standing on a stage in a packed bar in bikini I am terrified of!

On the evening of the contest I stood nervously backstage in my embellished bikini with two thoughts and two shots of liquor running through my head.  First, how at 29 was I doing something I would have never done at 21?  And second, I really wanted a cheesesteak from Mister Z’s.  As I took the stage for the question and answer portion (just like the real Miss America!) an older woman grabbed me and shoved a $20 bill in my bikini top and told me I looked awesome.   Suddenly I realized we are always younger and braver in someone else’s eyes and maybe I should try to see myself through those eyes. 

I survived my trip on stage; I shook what my mama gave me and began collecting my donations.  I would like to say the 90 minute collection period flew by but I was more than relieved when it was time to hand over my collection bag.  My humiliation was not wasted, as I not only collected a tidy sum, but I also actually won first place.  It didn’t even take another shot to get me back on stage to claim my tiara, sash, armful of roses and yes—the large emerald too. 

Even though this was a barroom beauty pageant, I have to say the win was overwhelming.  Credit should be given to Miss America because the number of pictures I posed in for our one local paper was pretty intense.  At the end of the night I was happy to cover up the bikini and finally dive into that huge, cheesy sandwich.  I won’t lie, I wore the crown to get that sandwich and to several others places afterward. 

At the end of the day, little girls everywhere still dream of being a beauty queen, of wearing a glistening crown, and feeling like the prettiest woman in the country.  And I would guess that there are many grown-up women, long past the age acceptable for beauty pageants, that have the same dream too.   Whether 8 years old or 48 years old, it feels really good to wear a tiara and if for only a moment be the prettiest girl in the room. 

Now excuse me—I have to cut a ribbon at a local bank opening… royal duties call.

 

Queens of Soles June 28, 2011

Filed under: Love Me, Love My Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 10:17 am
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Sure these Steve Madden stilettos could cause an injury but they are still too cute to pass up. Photo by Jean Thornton.

The Queen of Soul and I have something in common this week.  We have both suffered foot injuries due to our love of high heels.  According to news reports, Aretha Franklin apparently stumbled over a pile (yeah that’s right I said PILE) of Jimmy Choo shoes and stepped on top of spiked-sandal, resulting in fracture toe.  My injury was caused by a slip and fall in some very lovely stilettos. They were not Choos but I also found myself with a broken bone. While my damaged foot may not have garnered the attention that Aretha’s has (though honestly it should have been on the Google news feed) I feel a little closer to my sole sister this week all the same. 

 I certainly do sympathize with Aretha who has been snapped hobbling about in her medically-fitted blue boot.  My guess is that it was not designed by Jimmy Choo or any other notable person.  My own boot was actually larger, so Aretha is getting off a little easy in my mind.  I also imagine Aretha has a staff to help out while she is lopsided.  I only had my dog and some friends to rely on. 

 But all the staff in the world can not undue the mental anguish that accompanies a forced shoe confinement.  Aretha was quoted as asking, “How am I supposed to match my Marc Jacobs gown with this wooden blue shoe?”  I hear you loud and clear, Aretha, as I had to match my own boot to a bridesmaid dress.  Of course I took off the boot and painfully wore a stiletto to spare myself that greater pain of walking down the aisle in that boot.  This was not recommended by my doctor; in fact, I got a very disapproving look—so don’t mention a situation like that to your physician. 

 I did continue to wear a high heel on my other foot; finally I found a place for kitten heels in my wardrobe.  So Aretha, do not fear that all sense of shoe fashion is lost to you; instead it is merely reduced by 50%.  You can still be fabulous and fashionable; you just might be slightly lopsided.  I found that even just wearing one heel made me feel much better and isn’t a positive attitude the key to a quick recovery?

 My fellow Sole Sister may have to take her injury in stride over the next several weeks.  Broken bones do take time to heal, plus the added stress a foot must endure in our daily routines can make it very tricky.  From one on-the-go lady to another, take some time to just slow down, Aretha.  Prop up that foot and read a book, catch up on your fashion magazines or even just indulge in a little junk television.  Bravo has a whole summer schedule of fighting housewives to keep you amused.     

 If you get really bored, feel free to swing down to Key West. We can hangout together, talk about shoes, go to karaoke bars—I’ll even take that pile of dangerous Jimmy Choos off your hands…or should I say feet, if it means you will be safe.  Don’t worry, Aretha, soon enough you will be back in your stilettos, dancing and singing for all of your fans.  And your broken toe will be just a distant memory.

 Take this Queen of Sole’s advice: from here on out and make sure your Jimmy Choos are properly stored.  You have already proven your shoes are dangerous… and I heard the new fall line is drop dead gorgeous.

 

Buy New Shoes, But Keep the Old Ones June 5, 2011

Filed under: Key West; Not Just for Flip Flops — theislandshoegirl @ 8:16 am
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These classic Calvin Klein heels will always have a place in my shoe closet. Photo by Jean Thornton

This weekend I found myself in a time warp. I somehow stumbled through space and time in my vintage Steve Madden wedges and ended up three years earlier. No, I have not invented a time machine, and if I had I totally would have used it to buy those super-cute Gucci shoes I had to pass on last summer. Instead, I found myself at a friend’s birthday party that brought together the majority of my tried-and-true Key West friends at one of our old-time hangouts.

What started out as just another Sunday shoe photo shoot (which happens very frequently for me) was actually a trick to set my trusted shoe photographer and friend, Jean “Golden Girl” Thornton, unsuspectingly on a birthday treasure hunt of sorts. Carefully constructed clues led her from bar to bar, picking up bits of “treasure” and friends along the way. By the time we landed at our last stop, a favorite old bar hidden away from the rest of Duval Street, there were more than 40 friends in full party mood.

As I squeezed through the crowd, greeting both people I had seen the day before and those I had not seen in months (for a small island you can really hide well if you want to) and pushed my way up to the bar, I had a strange sense of familiarity. Yet, it was not déjà vu as this was not a repeat of past days but a hybrid of old days and new. This particular bar had been the main hangout of me and many friends for my first two years in Key West. I have sat on every bar stool, heard countless stories from friends and strangers, and lived a few stories that are better remaining untold.

I still stop in the bar every now and then, but it is not the same as it once was. With a cold beer in hand this night, I glanced around the bar. Yes, there were many “old timers” who were there the first time I walked into the bar and are probably still there as you read this. But there were also many friends who had not been originals to our crew. Funny, how those I had only met in the last year seemed to belong there just as much as anyone else.

This collection of characters that I get to call friends reminded me of my shoe closet… and the expanded shoe overflow that has been added. The people in that room, much like my shoes, were all cherished and valued pieces of my Key West menagerie. Some of my friends have been there from the beginning, like the original pair of Steve Madden heels I bought for my first full-time job. Sure those shoes and some of my friends might be a little worn, but I only see them as they looked the first day—perfect, beautiful soles that I was so excited to have.

Other friends and shoes have been added throughout the years. Some of these shoes I am still learning about. I discover whether they go with new outfits and if they will give me blisters after 8 hours on my toes. A few of these new friends are still sharing new things with me too. And even though I have a lot of shoes, I never stop adding a new pair (or two or ten) when the opportunity comes along. After all no two shoes… or should I say no two pairs of shoes are truly the same.

After the drinks had flowed, the cake had been cut and the birthday girl sung to I said my goodbyes and took my shoes home to their many shoe friends. Tucking my wedges back into their spot, I noticed a little more wear on their soles. But instead of seeing it as imperfections, I decided to view it as just another story to be told. After all, those shoes were good enough to carry me through this day as they have before. And just like a good friend they didn’t let me down.

Maybe the old saying about friends is true: Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver and the other is gold. But if it is, this one might be too: Buy new shoes but keep the old ones, one is Manolo’s and the other is Prada. Friends or shoe, old or new both are valuable to me.

 

So Long Oprah, Hello Shoe Girl May 29, 2011

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 8:51 am
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Shoes worthy of a daytime talkshow. Photo by Jean Thornton

Today we live in a world unlike anything we have known in the last 25 years. No, it is not the unrest and political turmoil around the world or the introduction of a new bit of technology guaranteed to modify our lives in some insignificant way. Today we live in a world without the Oprah show. As you read this, there is no chance of a camera crew being perched outside your door ready to announce that Oprah is coming to redecorate your house. There is no team of stylists waiting to give you a makeover backstage. There are no more favorite things to be paraded out by low-level staffers dressed as elves. And no matter where you go today, no one will scream, “You get a car, you get a car, everyone gets a CAR!”

Yes, we do not live in a completely Oprah-less world. There is still O magazine, and now that Oprah doesn’t have a day job, maybe she can finally be on the cover for once. Even our television screens will not be Oprah- free as she now has her own network appropriately called OWN. I have a suspicion that there will be much more Oprah to come and that we won’t find Oprah doing traditional retiree activities such as water aerobics at the YMCA anytime soon.

However, there is now a giant, gaping hole in our television lives from 4 to 5pm every week day that must be filled. Yes, Oprah has offered us many offspring to step up and fill these 60 minutes—give or take a few commercial breaks—in our lives. As I scan the list of potential replacements I have to say I am little let down. Let’s be honest, Dr. Phil and his self-titled show has gone from psychology-based programming to cameras in the homes of people who should not be allowed around sharp objects let alone put on display. Rachel Ray has never been my cup of chowder, tea, spicy sausage, or anything else. Honestly, anyone who is that happy to be cooking should be beat over the head with a bottle of wine. And then that wine should be given to me to drink. As to Nate Berkas, I am not sure what the heck that guy is supposed to be doing. I have watched his show twice and still cannot pick out throw pillows to save my life.

Beyond the Oprah chosen ones, there are many eager outsiders also wanting to swoop in. Katie Couric is rumored to be developing a new talk show that will blend the cute, perky, colonoscopy-friendly Katie of The Today Show with the more serious “gotcha ya” question-asking Couric from the evening news. Anderson Cooper also has a syndicated talk show in the works. And who doesn’t want to spend an hour watching the silver fox mid-afternoon while drinking an early martini?

Despite all of these options no one stands out from the crowd as the clear new leader of daytime talk. We need someone who will half sing the introduction of a guest at least three times a week; someone who will occasionally make random, unfounded statements about a variety of topics and yet have no one question these statements. We need someone who can make celebrities do things like hang out with some random housewife from Wisconsin because it’s their “Wildest Dream”, or someone who will annually have Cher, Tina Turner, or Celine Dion as a special guest to announce their respective farewell tour and then return only a year later to promote their welcome back tour.

I want to throw my stilettos into the running by saying I do believe I am just the Shoe Girl to do to take Oprah’s place. I am very good at asking complete strangers personal questions that would be better left private. I like holding large audiences captive while talking about how much more fabulous my life is than theirs. I can also nod my head seriously and look sympathetic as a celebrity tells me how hard it was to play the role of someone from real life that actually had to live that tragedy.

Of course some things would have to change a little. First, I wouldn’t be able to give away as much stuff. Instead of giving everyone a new car, I would let everyone make a payment on my car! “You get to make a car payment, you get make a car payment, everyone but me gets to make a car payment!” The people would love me. ‘My favorite things’ would mostly be things I want people to give me, not things I could give other people. Luckily, I don’t have as much money as Oprah so my favorite things would be affordably priced wine and lots of packaged cheese so everyone could actually buy what I like. And in place of a book club, I would have a shoe club and every month I would pick a new shoe that everyone should wear; then we could sit around and talk about how the shoe changed our lives.

Of course production would have to be moved to Key West, but after all of those Chicago winters, I think Oprah’s staff would be excited to spend some time with palm trees and sand. The good news is that I am young enough to go twenty-five years easily, so once America falls in love with me we don’t have to go through another farewell season for quite some time. Don’t worry, Oprah, America is in good hands with me as their new sweetheart. Feel free to call anytime to set up a day to hand over your office keys. My phone lines are open and I am just sitting here practicing for my new show…”You get a pair of stilettos, you get a pair of stilettos, everyone gets a pair of stilettos!”

 

5 Years of Being the Island Shoe Girl May 22, 2011

Filed under: Key West; Not Just for Flip Flops — theislandshoegirl @ 9:12 am
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Its been five years of sand, stilettos, and drinks in Key West. Photo by Jean Thornton

I get asked frequently when I will be moving back “home”—which I think to the questioners are referring to Ohio. They sometimes seem surprised when I tell them I already live at “home”, because for me that is what Key West is. This week will mark five years since I moved to this little island that barely hangs onto the state of Florida. In my head it is hard to believe that so much time has passed. Most days I have a hard time even remembering what month it is, which is a hazard of living where the seasons are: kind of hot, hot, hotter and really freaking hot. Without the falling of leaves or snow and only hurricane season to mark the passing of time, it is easy to get lost in the days.

Perhaps five years is not really that long. Many people live their whole lives in one place and never say, “Hey, look, I am still here.” But Key West is really the first place I went to on my own, not as part of a freshman class or some sort of unit. And anyone who has lived in Key West for longer than a year has witnessed the many people coming and going from this island. There always seems to be someone new arriving and someone else leaving. The ‘locals’ start to appreciate this as part of the ever-changing scenery of Key West. You also begin to call places by their previous names, “you know that new place; remember it used to the interior design place with everything made of shells, then it was a cheap little dress store and now it’s a really nice wine bar.” It’s like speaking a special ancient Key West language.

I could easily reflect on the last five years and the many accomplishments and experiences I have had here. I could measure the years in the number of shoes I have bought or the creative ways I have devised to store them. I might consider how I have learned to walk in heels on sand and across boat docks without losing a shoe. Or the times I have received strange looks while riding my bike in 5-inch stilettos. The years could be tallied by the number of Fantasy Fest costumes or the stray beads left over from parades past. I could count the photographs and newspaper clippings on my refrigerator.

Maybe it’s the friends that I have made in the last five years that show how long I have been here. The sense of belonging it brings me when, no matter where I seem to go, I run into a person I know. Whether it’s taking the dog for a walk or running to the store for a forgotten item, it seems there is always someone to say hello to and know they will say it back. It’s the inside jokes, the promises we keep to get together soon for a drink, and the realization that you are never too far away from someone with a kind word. I will be the first to admit, it is a strange collection of friends, but I fit right in with them. There is a certain satisfaction that comes with knowing that your friends do not all fit into one category. It seems when we are young our friends are our friends because they live next door, are in dance class with us, or sit across the aisle in school. As an adult you get to select your friends—and having a grab-bag full of them is as good as a closet full shoes.

I sometimes wonder if it is the not-so-ordinary things that have become commonplace to me that mark the passing of time. I sleep through chickens crowing; I brake for iguanas without a second thought; and public nudity has just become part of daily life. Key West is full of the unusual; at least that is how it seems at first, but soon you hardly notice the guy dressed like Spiderman playing the sitar. It just becomes life. But a chance to eat at Arby’s, now that is a big occasion! I cannot help but speculate if visitors now think a girl walking on the beach in a pair of Jimmy Choos is odd.

At the end of it all, I guess what most signifies that I have been here for five years is that I have no desire to leave. When I think of where I would go, I cannot imagine any place that could give me a much as Key West. Whether it’s the wind in the palm trees on summer nights, the boats pulling across the water at sunset, or the laughter that spills out of a hidden bar… it just seems like nowhere else could ever be as good.

At least once a week I like to walk my dog out to the end of White Street Pier and look back at my island. Maybe Key West isn’t for everyone; some may only have to visit it once; for others, it is a nice break from reality every now and then. For me it is home. While I don’t know if it will always be home (life has a funny way of changing things for us), when I look at Key West from the end of the pier, it seems it could be my home for at least another five years.

 

 
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