The Island Shoe Girl's Blog

Where shoes meet sand…

The Father of All Shoes June 19, 2011

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 7:00 am
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I was probably looking for a pair of shoes.

I have spent a good bit of time in the greeting card aisle this month.  For some reason it seems that everyone I know was having a birthday in the month of June, and if it wasn’t a birthday, it was a baby or a wedding.  Throw in a few graduations and I was looking at a hefty greeting card bill. 

June also has another greeting card-worthy occasion—Father’s Day.  I could not help but notice that there did not seem to be as many Father’s Day card options as there had been for Mother’s Day just a few short weeks before.  As I looked at cartoon dogs wishing Dads a happy day and the cut-outs of fish and golf clubs, I felt like no one card perfectly summed up my own dad.  Surely, no typical card would do for the father who let me dream up a shoe girl dynasty. 

Since there was a severe lack of cards for dads with high heels on them, I had to read a lot of cards before finding a keeper.  Looking at the limited selection, I realized that I may be in a minority when it comes to having a good Father’s Day card-worthy dad.  Over the years I had many friends whose dads did not always live up to the title “Dad” and the duties that go along with it.  And working today with many single mothers, I can count on one hand the number of fathers who stepped up to help out.  I am not saying all dads are bad; I know there can be a lot of odds stacked against dads and some don’t even get the chance to try out the role.  This makes the truly good dads all the more amazing and deserving of an equally amazing card and much more.

Whenever I am complimented on something—from my work ethic, to my manners, or to my shoes—I generally have to give a lot of credit to my dad. (And yes, my mom too, but she had her moment last month.)  If my boss is really happy with my work performance he should probably send the bonus to my parents as I cannot point to anyone who has influenced me more.  But he should probably just go ahead and give it to me so I can buy more shoes… hey, I am grateful but there are still shoes to buy!

Any words I have learned to spell correctly, any math technique I actually mastered (even if it was only temporarily), or whatever bit of science I understand comes from my dad.  It was my dad who kept pushing me until I could answer test questions with ease—and it was also my dad who would reward me with a pair of shoes.  It was my dad who dipped my toes in the ocean when I was little, showing me that waves were something to be splashed in and not something to fear.  I cannot imagine I would be the Island Shoe Girl—or any shoe girl at all—without his influence.

And while I could offer more and more examples of the good my dad did for me, I don’t want to ramble on…and my dad would not like that.  Instead I will simply say that every sappy song about fathers and daughters is true; at least when you have a father like mine.  Daughters do look to their fathers to show them how to be treated.  Young children believe every word that comes out their father’s mouth, from bed time stories to promises.  Fathers have the chance to make or break their children, not with wealth or material items, but with simple attention and dedication. 

At the end of any day, Father’s Day or not, if you are lucky enough to have a card-worthy father, it’s worth reading every single one until you find the right card.  And if you are really lucky, even then a card will not be good enough.  So until they make Father’s Day cards with stilettos on them or words that properly express all those accompanying perfect sentiments, this shoe girl will just have to hope she shows how much she loves her dad.

 

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!”

 

A Little Bit of Change May 15, 2011

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 6:53 am
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It can take a lot of pennies to buy all these shoes. photo by Jean Thornton

Lately, I have been thinking about change a lot—as in spare change or coins. I know this seems like an odd subject for a shoe girl like me, but when I am not out trying to rid the world of ugly, flat, worn shoes I am a case manager at a homeless shelter. And while a homeless shelter does not always spark images of glamour, it does often spark unique thoughts and insights.

Last year our shelter was offered start-up funds to launch a coin collection as a means to increase the amount of cash donations we receive from our local community. And so far this idea has been well received. We are not the only group with coin collection boxes at many local checkouts; the idea is not a new one, but it has proven to be a good one. In general, the collection boxes fill up in a month’s time. This means once a month a large canvas bag of coins is brought to my office by a wonderful volunteer, and then it is my job to take the change to our bank and run it through the automatic coin sorter. This can take a good bit of time and gives me plenty of opportunity to ponder what these little pieces of zinc, nickel, and copper actually mean.

It seems to me that there are two types of people when it comes to this type of change: those who keep it and those who leave it. You are either the type of person who keeps change on hand in a pocket or change purse, or you are the type of person who would rather let it lay on a counter or you might even toss it in the trash. Sure there are people who are coin discriminators; maybe they will keep quarters or dimes but pennies and nickels they cannot be bothered with. They only want the “big” coins. Then there are those who want them all—dirty pennies, damaged quarters, find a nickel in the gutter… why not pick it up?

I am guessing it is the non-coin saving segment that drops their coins into our boxes. And perhaps the coin discriminators contribute their lesser valued cents, leaving behind a little change too. Regardless of who contributed the coins, they get a chance at having their full value recognized once they land in our boxes. As the coin sorter shimmies and shakes the coins along on their way to being sorted, an automatic counter tallies up their overall worth.

There are always some coins that are rejected and sent down to a small bin for me to try to prove their value. These coins are sometimes foreign coins that are perhaps just misunderstood by our American currency system; they don’t match our shape and size designs or perhaps use a different language. While these coins may not look like their American counterparts, with a little work and an exchange rate their value can be included also. Then there are the dirty or damaged coins. Sometimes these coins are so discolored, corroded from neglect, and worn down that it is hard to tell what type of coin it really is. The coin that maybe was stuck under the sofa cushions or floor mat is generally discolored and covered with some type of sticky goo.

Now here comes an opportunity for me to throw away these coins as less valuable or not worth my time. Yes, even if I scrub these coins for hours they may still individually be worth only one cent and, at most, maybe fifty cents if it is a long-lost half dollar. In the grand scheme of things it is probably not worth my time or the damage to my freshly-painted finger nails. Yet, I cannot bring myself to toss them aside. I feel a strange obligation to clean them, to try to determine what this coin is underneath all the goo and dirt, to look past the damage and wear. At the end of the day that neglected coin is still worth something. Maybe by itself it would not get very far, but with other coins it could add up to much more.

Maybe it’s the case manager in me that wants to see the good in everything and everyone. Maybe it’s because in those rejected coins I sometimes see my clients who might come to the shelter a little damaged and dirty but still with value. I guess it’s realizing that even when someone else decides there is not much value in something, I can still help find that essential worth. So for whatever reason those coins or those people end up with me and no matter how unlikely it seems that I could make either of them ‘shine’ again, at the very least I have to try to let their value show again.

I don’t expect every person to save and clean their coins, just as I do not expect everyone to give a homeless person shelter. But if these people can put a few of their ‘reject coins’ into our collection boxes, I am willing to clean them up for the chance to apply their value to helping others.

 

My Mother’s Shoes May 8, 2011

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 8:46 am
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A pair of my mom's more exciting shoes. Photo by Ben Kaple

I am frequently asked if my mother is a shoe girl too. I guess whenever anyone has an addiction like mine; there is a general desire to find out exactly when these habits started. There are many characteristics I share with my mother; blue eyes, fair skin and freckles to name a few. When it comes to shoes, however my mother and I could not be further apart at least when it comes to heel height.

As far back as I can remember my mom’s shoes they have never towered over a sensible three inches; this is not to say that my mom did not have heels they are just much lower than my five inch day to day shoes. Her shoes generally were on the more functional side. While I have a variety of shoes in all colors imaginable, my mom’s shoe collection had the basics covered: a red pair, a navy pair, a white pair, a black pair, some sneakers, a pair of sandals and faithful house slippers. They were lined up neatly on her side of the closet she shared with my dad. To a budding shoe girl they were still an area of great interest and I would frequently put my little girl feet inside and try to balance in the grown up shoes.

For most young girls, her mom’s shoes are toys. Every little girl seems to want to mimic her mother’s actions whether its playing in her toy kitchen or carrying a purse filled with all things a little lady needs (mainly candy). None the less the shoes I had to play with were not sparkly and they certainly were not designer. I know that in my lifetime shoes have become much more extravagant, but even today you won’t find many jewels, studs, feathers or bows on my mom’s heels.

It is easy to judge a woman on her shoes; you can look at her shoes to learn a lot about her lifestyle simply by checking out the height of her heel. The peek of a painted toe or the tip of a stiletto can show how much time a woman has to dedicate to her feet. Yet, growing up with a mom who did not go shoe crazy I have learned that sometimes you have to judge a woman by the shoes she doesn’t wear.

My mom’s shoes were not glamorous or expensive; they were the shoes of a woman with three little kids, a husband, a job and lots of errands to run. They were the shoes of someone who had to conquer the world each day and any challenges that might come along with it. If that meant snow or rain puddles, a run-a-way dog or sick child, even being an occasional field trip chaperone. It would be easy to say her shoes were simple everyday shoes… to stop there and say that’s all there were to her shoes.

The reality is that every pair of shoes that my mom didn’t buy was generally because there was something for her family that she needed to buy. Because my mom passed on the shoes with bows and feathers that cost more and would have taken money away from college funds and payments on braces said volumes. The shoes she didn’t wear because they would make her feet hurt and that would slow her down on a walk with us are what she should be judged on. The rare pair of evening heels showed that a night in reading bedtime stories was more enjoyable than a night out. At the end of the day slipping into a pair of house slippers was just as rewarding as slipping into a pair of Gucci stilettos.

My mother’s shoes may have never graced the pages of a glossy magazine. She probably couldn’t tell you the difference between a Dolce & Gabbana and a Dolce Vita, but she can tell you the name of every teacher we had in elementary school and what we wore for Halloween. And while her shoes are still not what most would call “high-end” they are still the first shoes I ever walked and dreamed in.

 

Stilettos On A Hot Tin Roof April 17, 2011

Filed under: Common Sense in Unsensible Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 2:06 pm
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Stilettos on a hot tin roof...well almost. Photo by Jean Thornton

A day or two after Elizabeth Taylor passed, I was leaving my Key West home when I saw a cat lounging in the morning sun on my neighbor’s tin roof. It was extremely fitting given that the play, which later became the film Cat on A Hot Tin Roof, and which became a classic Elizabeth Taylor role was written by Key West resident Tennessee Williams. I could not help but smile and wonder if Elizabeth had already found some irony in reincarnation. In the brief glances the cat and I exchanged while I locked my door and set about to face my day, I had that strange feeling that sunbathing cat knew more about life than I did.

Only a few days later, I discovered an Elizabeth Taylor film marathon on Turner Classic Movies. There seemed no better way to spend a sweltering afternoon than with one of the silver screens most sweltering ladies. As luck would have it, one of the films included was Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. I gladly arranged my afternoon cocktail schedule to allow me to be home for that movie. I had never seen the film considered to be a classic and not without scandal in its day—not to mention it had a few great fashion moments in it as well.

As I watched the film I couldn’t help but think of how risqué the topics of the film were back in the era when it was filmed. While many claimed—including Williams—that it strayed too far from his original play, the final product still had enough scandal, hidden secrets, and innuendo to make a church lady sweat. As the story of a family filled with marital strife, greed, and emotional and physical illness unfolds, the entire cast shines, but it is clear why Elizabeth was so well known for the part.

At the close of the story, Elizabeth’s character, Maggie the Cat, makes a declaration that she “has life within her” implying she is pregnant, despite the abundant knowledge by all that she is not. Those around her decide to accept her assertion whole heartedly, reinforcing that Maggie does “have a life within her.” As a viewer I could not help but also believe that Maggie and Elizabeth did have life within her, not referring to a child but a real drive to live a full life. As the film ends for the most part, the characters’ lives are still in shambles, yet there is a life within each that will drive them forward.

I could not help but think of Elizabeth’s real life and all the struggles that filled it. Throughout her personal losses and their very public attention, she continued to find a life within her that kept her moving forward. When we consider that while filming Cat on A Hot Tin Roof Elizabeth lost her husband at that time in a plane crash, the ending theme of the film takes on even more meaning as surely Elizabeth had to look for a life within herself.

Perhaps it is easy to look at Elizabeth Taylor as just another great actress from the silver screen. To believe that her greatest roles were an Egyptian queen, sophisticated beauties, or the hard-drinking wife of a professor may be in error; the real life Elizabeth Taylor was possibly the most interesting character of them all and by far the strongest. Many great quotes were used to remember Elizabeth in her passing. Whether spoken by or about her, characters or her real life persona, maybe that closing thought from Cat on A Hot Tin Roof sums it all up nicely: “that girl’s gotta little life in her.”

And while I am not sure if Elizabeth has made it back to earth as a sunbathing cat on a neighborhood hot tin roof, I cannot help but believe that, whether feline or human, no lady could ever walk across a roof or through life with such grace… in stilettos or not.

 

And the Statue Goes To…. February 27, 2011

Filed under: Its All About the Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 8:17 am
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A little gold around your toes makes the Oscars all the more fun! Photo by Jean Thornton.

Award season is coming to an end and soon the Oscar campaigning, champagne toasting, and statue-hugging acceptance speeches will be over for another year. As a true celebrity gossip lover, I cannot help but love this time of year when a Sunday evening is often filled with Red Carpets, glitzy dresses, and movie stars graciously acknowledging their fellow nominees. Of course I enjoy the backstage whispering, the cut away shots of losers and blatant self-promotion that happens as well.

Being a shoe lover, I often find myself looking down when a leading lady (and even a leading man) takes the red carpet or center stage. I am grateful that shoes are finally getting the attention they deserve when it comes to critiquing an outfit. Often thought of as the hidden element of award show style, at long last a peep-toe is more than just peeping out; it is being pushed into the spotlight! Yet among this year’s motion picture nominees these little darlings of the screen still seemed forgotten. So I have come up with a few ways to up the shoe ante and I think improve some of the story lines of this year’s feature films.

Black Swan is one of this year’s front runners for the Best Picture win, but perhaps this award would have been locked down if the ballerinas had ditched traditional toe shoes and instead strapped on some stilettos in their place. From the film’s depiction, toes take a beating in those ballet slippers so why not at least let those feet look hot in a pair of Christian Louboutin’s? I would be far more impressed if the final half of Swan Lake was done on toe and stiletto. And the right pair of shoes might have led to a happier ending.

The King’s Speech is also a crowd favorite this year. I have to admit I related since I spent many years in speech therapy. Years later, however, I will have to say the perfect heel gets me more attention than perfect pronunciation. I say who cares about the King’s speech—show us the Queen’s shoes! Let’s see the Queen Mum kick old Wallace Simpson out of the palace in style with a Dior boot.

When I first heard about 127 Hours, I thought it was a documentary about my last power shopping spree. I was disappointed (to say the least) when I learned that this was not a film about how to shop the Labor Day Weekend Sale at Nieman- Marcus, but instead about getting stuck in a crack. One time my heel got stuck in a sidewalk crack but I didn’t gnaw my ankle off. As for Inception, the whole thought of someone sneaking into my mind to steal my shoe dreams is far too frightening to even contemplate.

Winter’s Bone has won a lot of praise for its gritty look at the silent network of meth-cookers in the Ozarks and the real costs to their families caught up in the results. But really, would a cute boot have been too much to ask for? Hello—it’s winter! Accessorize! Those outfits were almost as depressing as the storyline. And while the strong female performances in The Kids Are Okay and The Fighter should definitely be honored, neither film offered the much-needed strong presence of stilettos.

I have to admit I am a big fan of True Grit, which I found to be one of the film highlights of the year. Yet, if little Hailee Steinfeld had only rocked some classic five-inch boots, she would have shown us all what real grit is. Anyone who has ever worked a classic pencil stiletto boot can tell you it’s a lot harder than riding with two worn-out cowboys. I understood the historical accuracy of the wardrobe, but I couldn’t help but think that Matt Damon would have looked a lot hotter in a better hat. And a little bead-dazzling of his eye patch would have surely held your eye on Jeff Bridges.

While helping films catch up on foot-ware style might be a challenge that has to be explored in the future, I can at least hope that the actresses will grace the red carpet in style. If Helena Bonham-Carter just gets matching shoes I feel a huge battle has been won. Now if only we can convince Natalie Portman to not wimp out and wear flats. Pregnancy is no excuse for bad shoes—at least when it comes to accepting golden statues.

 

After Valentine’s Day February 20, 2011

Filed under: Love Me, Love My Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 10:18 am
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It's easy to love and be loved in these Staurt Weitzman's. Photo by Jean Thornton.

Love was in the air this past week—or at least in the mail, the flowers and the commercials when it came to Valentine’s Day. As a single girl, I am not one to go crazy with hearts, fat babies, and flying arrows. Even when with someone special you will seldom find me slinging arrows or love poems around. It’s not that I don’t appreciate or value love, but I sometimes struggle to understand all of the fuss over February 14th. It’s not like there is a shoe sale involved, so why should all of us gals get our panties all in bunch over it?

Okay, perhaps right now I sound like a bitter lady. The truth is I am far from sour on Valentine’s Day; in fact, I enjoy any excuse to wear a salacious pair of red Jimmy Choos. I freely give advice on how to rock a pink strappy stiletto or a cute red dress on this love-filled day. I will even advise a male friend on how to appropriately commemorate the day with flowers or a gift. Trust me; many a female friend owes me a debt of gratitude for some of their nicer jewelry. So clearly I am no more against the actual Valentine’s Day than I am against a cute sling-back.

What does bother me about the day is how women sometimes respond to it. I am ready to be hated… but some of you ladies need to tone it down a notch. Honestly, by 8am on February 14th I could show you 10 Facebook love proclamations, ranging from announcements that life only began when they met their significant others to declarations of how miserable they would be without their deepest love. Really? Because I thought I knew you in college and you were pretty cool back then, so was that like a figment of my imagination?

As the day progresses, the posts become less about love and more about the gifts. I am all for displaying a little bit of bling, but at what point does it become tacky to upload a photo to show all your friends? Glad you’re not materialistic; otherwise, your friend’s would not have known the exact number of carats in those new earrings you have posted from you phone…during your romantic dinner. Nothing says ‘I love you’, like having to interrupt a date to brag to your friends.

By the end of Valentine’s Day I was so bogged down with postings about unending love, heart-shaped necklaces, and exotic roses, I had to wonder; just how special is Valentine’s Day when everyone is doing it? One friend d id post that to her every day was special with her husband, but I might have admired this more if it was done on a random Monday and not one covered in hearts and teddy bears by the card industry. To me it’s like wearing Stuart Weitzman’s on a red carpet—yeah, they look fabulous and stunning, but it’s almost too expected. Wouldn’t those same Weitzman’s be more remarkable on another day of the week when they are not expected?

Later into Valentine’s night, I could not help but wonder how many couples had waited for a table at restaurant that was overbooked or shared a high calorie dessert they would have to work off tomorrow on the treadmill in name of Valentine’s Day and not in the name of love. Would Tuesday be all the more rushed because of a late Monday spent forcing romantic gestures? Maybe the best use of the day was not Facebook post declaring love, pink tissue paper, and the use of red lipstick best left to Coco Chanel. Maybe that day and every other day should be filled with the little ways love can be shown. The simple gestures of trust a spouse has in the other. The little things we do to make another’s day go smoother such as taking out the recycling. Or just the daily embraces that remind someone we care on the deepest level possible. Those are the things that make a single girl admire love between others.

Days and weeks later, cards will be tucked or thrown away, flowers will have wilted and died, and even a cute, heart-clutching teddy bear gets set aside. What remains at the core of a truly great loving relationship are those little ways we share love daily. And while vacuuming or filling up your car is not the stuff that shows up in great love poems or Facebook posts, they are the things that often mean the most. Because they are things that make living and loving a little less rushed and a little more relaxed. Leaving time for a little bit longer kiss.

 

Stop Blaming Your Shoes… January 16, 2011

Filed under: Its All About the Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 6:18 pm
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Don't blame the shoes, blame game. Photo by Jean Thornton

Frequently women will complain about their feet at the end of the day, and generally the blame for their foot pain falls on their shoes.  Men often repeat these words back to the same women the next time they are putting on a pair shoes that do not meet a man’s definition of comfortable.  As much as I like to get my fashion advice from a gender that brought us the joy of a Lazy-Boy armchair in every living room, I would like to offer an alternative theory to foot pain.  I believe the truth of the matter is that it is not the shoes that cause the pain, but life in general. 

My philosophy is based on years of personal research and countless days testing this theory on my very own toes.  After hours upon hours of selfless dedication in stilettos, pumps, wedges with pointy toes, open toes, and round toes, I feel I can speak as an authority on this issue.  What I have found is that the shoe is seldom to blame, but instead, it is the day-to-day life of the user that causes all the real pain. 

Consider if you will the hardworking waitress busting her butt to move from table to table, answering the whims of the hungry masses.  Many times restaurants require their servers to wear flat, rubber-soled tennis shoes.  Despite my belief that this is violation of worker rights, the government ignores my cries of injustice and allows this to continue.  Ask any waitress or waiter worth their weight in silverware rolls and they will tell you that, by the end of the shift, their feet are tired and sore.

For exhibit B I give you the nurse.  Most nurses wear sneakers or dare I say it…crocs.  I know someday I will seriously injure myself walking in my heels so I will not say an unkind word about any nurse or their shoes.  But I will say that, like many other women, at the end of the day pretty much every nurse out there will tell you their feet hurt. 

And do not limit the role of nurse or server to females only as just as many males will mumble about blistered toes too.  I would go so far as to guess that many men and women on construction sites are tired of their steel-toe boots at the end of the day as well,  further proving my theory that achy toes and ankles are not caused by bad shoes, but more so by a hard day’s work.

I have yet to prove the second part of my theory that wealthy women who lie by a pool all day and eat fancy lunches have less foot pain despite wearing expensive heels, but I suspect I am on the right path.  I have spent hours watching The Real Housewives of (…whatever wealthy city I cannot afford a vacation to let alone to live there) and I never see those ladies complaining about their feet I think it is safe to say that their feet do not hurt.  Although with that much Botox in their systems who knows what those women can feel and how much emotion they can express. 

Based on both my personal experiences and my observations, I think it can be argued strongly that foot pain has little to do with the shoes and more to do with the how the person spends their days.  This is not to say that a nurse, server, or construction worker has a worse or better life than a socialite; it is to say that their feet might have a worse or better life.  I myself used to feel pain in my feet, but that was years ago before my toes gave up trying to plead for help.   I must admit that when my feet could register pain, it was generally because of what I did during the day and not my shoes. 

If I walked a long distance, it wasn’t my Manolo’s fault.  If I had to a carry a heavy box upstairs, it wasn’t Michael Kors’ fault.  If I put in a 16-hour day in my cutest Dolce & Gabbana stilettos, I do not blame those fabulous Italians?  Of course not!  It is the fault of who ever made me do those ridiculous things…which generally is me.  

Perhaps my “shoes don’t hurt your feet, life hurts your feet” theory could be applied to the larger view of the world.  Maybe it is not my job that makes me tired; maybe it is the business of my life that wears me out.  Could it be that it is not the fast-food that makes my jeans tight but that I don’t have time to cook a healthy meal?  All of these self-realizations are giving me a headache, or is it the complexity of my life? 

No wonder we blame our shoes—it is so much easier, than accepting reality.

 

A Stiletto Society January 9, 2011

Filed under: Its All About the Shoes — theislandshoegirl @ 9:09 am
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Could a Stiletto Society be the answer to our problems? Photo by Jean Thornton

Could a world exist with a stiletto-based society?  That is the question rattling around in my head lately.  My mind is frequently filled with thoughts of shoes in all shapes and sizes that come in a variety of colors and designs.  In my head and in any shoe section I see a world made of many different kinds of shoes that live peacefully with one another.  And it makes me wonder if a Stiletto Society isn’t the answer to many of the woes that plague the world I live in. 

Naturally when I think of a Stiletto Society I see a world where the road is smoother… I literally see a smooth road and sidewalk for my heels to walk across.  Those who remain flat-footed might not see the everyday dangers of a sidewalk crack or a cobblestone street, but a girl who struts in heels is a girl who has nearly eaten the sidewalk due to these lurking street dangers.  Thus a successful Stiletto Society would feature smooth roads which would surely benefit us all.  Anyone who has hit a pothole while driving or stubbed their toe on uneven pavement knows how these little bumps can put a damper on your day.  So the first step toward shoe safety and a more stress-free society are smooth roads and sidewalks.

In a Stiletto Society, the art of walking in very tall shoes is appreciated, and while many shoe girls can go for miles and never complain about the distance their heels carry them, from time to time a weaker woman might mumble a complaint.  I see this as no different than any other sign of frustration one might have when going a long distance in their career, for their family, or just to make it through the day.  I believe in a good Stiletto Society the road traveled should not always have to be so darn long.  Now I am not complaining about hard work or going the distance.  But that distance should be reasonable and the journey should not be without its own rewards.  Achievements and frustrations should be acknowledged; every now and then it’s good to let someone complain about a difficult day or toes that hurt.   Not to say “I told you so,” or hand out false compliments but to simply be a shoulder to lean on when life or a strappy heel is rubbing the wrong way.

Every person in a Stiletto Society has a chair at the table or a stool at the bar—depending on whether you are going to dinner or to Happy Hour.  Let’s face it, no one likes to stand around and be pushed away from the table or have to fight for attention at the bar, not to mention that when you are standing on the outside waiting for your place you get a little tired.  This can only breed frustration and feelings of being unwanted.  That is why in a Stiletto Society everyone has a chance to be an equal— to feel rested, relaxed and above all wanted.  If our society gave everyone an equal chance to sit at the table and be heard; we might not always get what we want, but at least we had a chance to say what our wants are. 

Perhaps what is most important principle of a Stiletto Society is that everyone has an equal chance to participate.  Regardless of age, race, religion or shoe size there is always a stiletto out there for anyone who wants it.  Some may not take the time to use their stilettos, but still it is there.  True, not all stilettos may be for everyone, but you can still respect another person’s stilettos.  That’s the true beauty of a Stiletto Society; we can all have different stilettos and still admire each stiletto for its originality and what it means to its owner. 

Of course in an ideal Stiletto Society we don’t have to pick just one stiletto to represent us all the time.  Stilettos can be changed as we change—just as the stiletto wearer can change.  Perhaps with time the wearer will want a taller stiletto or a shorter stiletto, depending are where the wearer is in life.  Yet, their stiletto choice is still to be respected and treated fairly.

While my dream of a perfect Stiletto Society may currently be realized only in my mind (and possibly shoe stores around the world), I still hope for a day where our society looks more like a Stiletto Society.  After all, couldn’t we all use a little more color, glamour, and fun in our life?  Not to mention that you can easily add 5 inches to your height and look really awesome too.  Hey, I am shoe girl, not a visionary.

 

 
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