Shape Up

During my last post, I vowed to return to the topics at hand, shoes and their relationship to various aspects of life. I spent a few hours pondering possible ideas. I feared I was blocked. This blog has basically written itself. As I sit at the computer, ideas and words have spewed forth like the scene in The Exorcist where Linda Blair's head spins around. Was my run over?

I did what any self-respecting girl would do. It was time for a manicure. At least my nails would look nice! While waiting for my technician, I perused Lucky Magazine. For the uninitiated, Lucky is an homage to the art of retail, a GPS for armchair shoppers. Each edition comes complete with these adorable color coordinated stickers reading Yes! or Maybe? The object is to "tag your must-haves and maybe's." This concept is unrelated to the basic third grade lesson of wants vs. needs for which I must clearly been absent!

As an aside, I often feel a sense of accomplishment when most of these stickers remain on their home page. Maybe I am becoming more discriminating in my fantasy purchases. I did find an interesting perfume called Spotlight by Avon. The press release describes this as "a fresh Oriental scent inspired by the feeling of excitement before a big moment....capturing the confidence and radiance as you step into the spotlight." If these feelings are found in a bottle not involving cocktails, where do I sign up? (Besides, my daughter's kindergarten teacher is now an Avon rep and I do want to support her endeavor!)

My eyes are drawn to a photo of this very odd looking flip flop with an amorphous-shaped platform, the Shape Up Shoe. I was intrigued. I visited the website. "Too busy for the gym? Wear your Shape Up Shoes just 30 minutes a day for lifted buns, toned legs, and a stronger core." Is this shoe pilates? What happens if you wear these shoes to work out? Do you get double the benefit? If I did not mention, I am a workout warrior with an obsession for core-stengthening exercises. And when you reach my age, any promise of lifted buns and toned legs is too good to be true!

The Shape Up Shoe vaguely resembles the traditional Japanese Geta which experienced popularity in the 70s. My curiousity is piqued as to how one would walk or even balance in these shoes but I suppose this is where the core stengthening fits in. Available in black and brown as well as a rainbow of color options, the website recommends going down a size. In my experience, tell women they need a smaller size and the sale is basically a done deal. The Shape Up Shoe is available in two other variations, a clog and a boot. These styles reference Crocs and Uggs, in my opinion, the two fugly shoes of contemporary times.

I had to have these shoes. They wouldn't make too big a dent in my Louboutin stash and besides, they appeared to be great multitaskers. Maybe I could wear them as I cook, do my Bar Method workout, or empty the dishwasher. The website did discourage wearing these shoes on a wet surface or while driving, a point well-taken. I broke out the credit card and ordered a pair in Grass. My first choice was Hibiscus Red but these were sold out. I will let you know how they work out!

As I received confirmation of my order, I mused. When did we get so busy that we couldn't spend an hour at the gym or taking a walk with a friend? At the very least, squeezing in forty-five minutes on the home treadmill or doing a workout dvd? As I thought, a young girl rolled into the nail salon on her Heely's. Popular with the elementary set, these tennis shoes sport a wheel in the heel. "Freedom is a wheel in your sole." Heely's and the Shape Up Shoe are a reflection of the hurried approach to life. We are in such a rush to get to our next destination, we are constantly multi-tasking and rolling along. We need to stop and smell the roses....or at least to check out the shoes!

Harmony

Today is my birthday. If you didn't know better, you might think I would have gone shoe shopping. Let me explain, first, that my birthdays go on for days (lunches, coffees, cocktails, and get-togethers) on end. Today, my husband gifted me with a wonderfully indulgent gift which may have changed my life. Upon awaking, I was given a gift bag with a certificate for a Harmony massage at Burke Williams Beyond the Spa in Sherman Oaks, California. I am not a massage virgin. In fact, I was quite an afficionado of shiatsu and deep tissue; the stronger, the better. But, as I inhabit the forties, my workout and massage world has changed from kickboxing and shiatsu to yoga and aromatherapy massage.

Burke Williams in Sherman Oaks resembles a lodge with dark green rugs and dark wood. I checked in for my treatment and was given a delicious floral tea with a flower which opened as it soaked in the boiling water. I was greeted and shown to the locker room, complete with sauna, steam rooms, and jacuzzi. My only disappointment was that Burke Williams' water was no longer flavored with steeped lemon and cucumber because of health department ordinances. I finished my tea and changed into the requisite robe and slides. I hung my clothes and turned off my Blackberry. This morning would require my full attention.

My masseuse came to get me and guided me upstairs to my treatment room where I disrobed and slid under the sheets, face down. I was ready for an amazing experience which would involve almost all my senses, from the new age music filtering through the room to the scent of the scrubs and oils. I made a decision to practice yoga breathing to really be in the moment which brought this to a whole other level. The Harmony massage involves hot and cold stones, applied simulaneously, which is mind-altering, especially when coupled with cleansing breaths! Another component to the massage is the use of vibrations. I am not sure what kind of tool was used but it was interesting. The massage lasted 75 minutes. Massages are like slow dances. You never want them to end, provided you are with the right partner. I slowly got up and was given a square of dark chocolate and a glass of chilled water. Does life get better than this? I was guided downstairs where I spent some time savouring my square of chocolate in the quiet room before my return to reality. Or at least a lovely lunch with my husband.

I left the day spa feeling exhilarated and at peace. It didn't hurt that I met a 50-year old woman who shared my birthday. She was shocked when I told her my age! (She thought I was younger!) I suppose I should stop telling people how old I am and keep them guessing!

My approach to this birthday has been life-altering. I feel truly comfortable in my own skin. We go through life trying on different masks until we reach the moment when we are confident enough to shed the facade. I have rekindled dear friendships from the past and met some wonderfully supportive new friends. My spa visit was icing on the proverbial birthday cake.

I promise to return tomorrow with a witty post involving shoes. Thank you for the birthday indulgence.

Shoe Lust

A few months ago, I posted a question on a social networking site. Is it wrong to have lust for a pair of shoes? Not just any shoes. Christian Louboutin's. These shoes do incite lust, envy, probably all seven of the sins. Someone asked me what the big deal was. Maybe you have to be there. Like the first time you saw John Travolta strutting down the Brooklyn street in his leather jacket to "Oh, you can tell by the way I use my walk..." Or Richard Gere arranging a drawer filled with Armani shirts in "American Gigolo." Gregory Peck running into Audrey Hepburn with her freshly cropped hairstyle in "Roman Holiday." Sabrina's face as she watches David Larabee from atop a tree. I admit to an obession with old movies, especially romances.

The compelling attraction I have to these particular shoes is something that cannot be ignored. My life has been filled with major crushes. The kind that propels one to buy new outfits. A best friend can attest to weekly cowl neck sweater purchases to impress the object of my infatuation. Looking back, I doubt he even noticed my growing collection of angora sweaters. Sometimes, I dress up just to visit the object of my affection at the Nordstrom's shoe department. I will occasionally muster enough courage to request a pair to try on. This subtle yet bashful flirtation brings me back to my high school days when a returned glance or just proximity to a certain boy would thrill me for a week! Growing up in a pre-I.M., pre-text era, I spent hours on the phone with girlfriends dissecting albeit brief snippets of conversation with an object of desire. Ah, simpler times.

While my 70s and early 80s high school crushes went unrequited, I feel I do have a chance with Mr. Louboutin's Decollete 868's. I do wonder if hooking up with my first pair will fulfill me. I guess we will need to see.

If the Shoe Fits, Here is my Credit Card!

Yesterday, I hit the Nordstrom's Half Yearly Sale along with my two shoe divas in training aka my daughters. First department? You guessed it. We came home empty-handed. I have decided to forego the quick fix in order to save for my first pair of Louboutin's. Up until recently, I would have picked up those silver Tory Burch slides on sale to add to my collection. I used to troll Payless in search of a designer-inspired flat. To paraphrase a disco era song, " So many shoes, so little time, how can I lose? "

That was then; this is now. Well, all right. I confess. I am sometimes tempted by the cheap thrill...or less expensive thrill, as it were. Somewhere along the line, blisters and peeling plastic changed this girl's mind. I remember like it was yesterday. OK, it was two years ago. I was wearing one of those really cute outfits assembled from my closet. A crisp white blouse tied over a navy camisole with an adorable navy short skirt. I added some pearls, a rattan and white tote, and darling navy embossed flats with a pointy toe. I was channeling my inner Parisian. I definitely had a spring in my step as I strolled from my car to a meeting. The meeting was going along well until I recognized a pinching feeling in my toes. The day was warm. Synthetic materials do not breathe. I remember this from The Official Preppy Handbook.

I subtly attempted to extricate my toes from the unbearably pointy toe box, quite a feat as I was standing at the time! I had this cartoon a-ha moment where I envisioned my new set of eternally pointed feet. This evolution could actually be rather useful, except when rounded toe shoes are in style. I bid my good-bye's and tried to remain fetching as I sort of hobbled from the meeting. Image is everything.

When I got to the car, the shoes came off and I drove home barefoot. Not only did I have blistering toes but now my cute outfit was ruined! After all, the sum total of an outfit is only as good as its parts!

My take-away from that day, though, is this. In shoes, as in life and friendships, you get what you pay for. Sure, your proverbial closet can be filled with uncomfortable plastic shoes you will wear once or twice. But, given the choice, wouldn't you rather have a closet of beautiful, authentic shoes that will last forever? Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

Think Outside the (Shoe) Box

Mark Twain once said, "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society." While I don't necessarily agree with the second half of his statement, one's choice in footwear does reflect his identity. Before we get to that, I am so tempted to examine the scope of influence of naked people. While a nudist may not influence society, he would definitely make us stand up and take notice!

Back to the topic at hand (or should I say "foot,") at one point or another, our choice of shoes is influenced by one of several factors. Firstly, we may choose a certain type of shoe for its practical application. For example, if we are training for a marathon, we would need running shoes. If we were applying for our first summer associate gig in a New York law firm, we might need a pair of wing tips. If we are getting ready for cocktails with that cute guy from the next office, we might need a strappy pair of heels. You get the idea. A second consideration for many folks when choosing how to cover their feet is fitting in. I am not talking about shoe size; we will examine that at a later date. I am talking about the sometimes desperate need to conform one's footwear to one's peer group. The middle school or junior high era panic which sets in when we realize everyone else is wearing Converse while we are wearing Keds.

Looking back, the first time I felt the need for shoe-conformity was when I was in the fourth grade. I noticed a friend's suede saddle shoe clad foot beneath her desk. I took mental note. Must tell mom to take me to get similar shoes after school. I used to think maybe I just thought the shoes were cute. Nope. I did end up buying a similar pair in multi-colored rust, brown, and teal suede. Let me tell you, the best quality these shoes possessed was their chameleon-like ability to match the various 1970s pants suits in my wardrobe! Beauty was not even the issue!

Fast forward a few years to junior high, circa 1974-76. Poor vintage for shoes. The best of the bunch was probably the infamous Buffalo Wedge. They did look pretty cool peaking from beneath our flare Ditto jeans. These shoes were the envy of many an Anthony Wayne Junior High coed, with our winged hair, comb in back pocket. Buffalo Wedges sported a natural colored platform sole, criss crossed in the front and buckled around the ankle. I thought these shoes were so sophisticated, especially worn with a Gunny Sax/Little House on the Prairie style dress or the denim wrap gauchos I made in 7th grade home ec. As with most fashions, there were variations of this disco era sandal.

I am more interested in taking a glance at the epitome of 70s footwear and its variation, the ugly shoe. This species of shoes was more about comfort and conformity than style and grace. The first ugly shoe I recall is the earth shoe. Asexual, with a toe box higher than the heel, usually in some shade of brown, these shoes were fugly. Yet, we all wanted this shoe. With its homely looks and trapezoid-shaped toe box, it was like the Aristotle Onassis of footwear, except without the bank account. Go figure. Surprisingly, for a decade known for swinging and sexual freedom, the seventies offered several asexual shoes. Well, the seventies were also the decade of women's lib, bra burning, and leg hair, so now I understand. The desert boot or shoe by Clarks was yet another version. The most popular style was in a light tan suede. For some inexplicable reason, I thought boys who wore these shoes were hot, especially boys with feathered hair and some nice Lee cords. No clue. These were definitely not as well-rounded as other shoes. As a girl, (and should girls really wear shoes like this?) I certainly couldn't couple these with a skirt or dress. Ycch! My personal favorite of the fugly bunch would have to be the Famolare Get There shoe with its patented four wave design.

The Famolare was the fugly shoe for the fashion set. I even had a pair! Joe Famolare designed these quirky shoes after studying musical theatre at Emerson College and going on to design shoes for Broadway shows and Capezio. This is a man after my own heart! His molded clog won the Coty in 1973 and his designs are on permanent display in the Smithstonian and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Famed photographer Richard Avedon shot most of the ads. Should I go on? If I only knew then what I know now, I would have gone for more than one pair! To promote the Get There shoe, Joe commissioned a rock song "Get There" for which I am going to search and download for my i-Pod! There was even a dance. Joe gave away 45 records of the song to people who bought the Get There. Just think, I probably had one! Two more interesting facts about the Famolare before I leave you for today... Among the more exotic items modelled after the Famolare shoe was a sculpted version made of lapus azuli. And the piece de resistance, the Shoe Bed, a giant shoe that doubled as a full bed. Now I know what I want for my next birthday!

Louboutin Love

It has been said there are only two sure things in life, death and taxes. I would proffer a third. Shoes.

Love and romance are the roller coaster in the amusement park of life. The anticipation and excitement felt as you climb the track reaching towards the peak is quite a thrill. Once you reach the top, you appreciate the beauty of the landscape below. The descent invariably brings nausea and occasional vomiting. These things tend to end badly or at least with some measure of disappointment. We are left with sea legs and a rather green complexion. But, there is always the prospect of a new pair of shoes.

The ante is upped once we age and life becomes increasingly complicated. Whereas an unrequited adolescent crush might be appeased with a cute pair of Candie's from the mall, the adult variation may be soothed with a couple of dry martini's and that fabulously seductive pair of Louboutins with the four inch heels. That red sole, beautiful instep, buttery leather, are you getting excited? The fall from romantic ecstacy may be cushioned with the right pair of shoes. And besides, once the first pair of black Decollete 868 joins the other shoes in your closet, there is always a pair of Very Prive Platform Pumps close behind.

Shoenogomy

I remember the first time I noticed shoes. Not just any shoes. Red shoes. Amento's Shoe Store. Wayne, New Jersey, circa 1968. Red patent leather dress shoes. Right then and there, I knew, I was destined to be a shoe-holic. Shoes were not just for covering your feet as you strolled from point A to point B.

My mother's attempts to coax me into trying on a sensible pair of white Keds or black Mary Jane's went unheeded. From this point on, only red shoes would touch these feet. A birthday photo of me in a beautiful pink moire party dress brings a giggle to my lips when I notice the bright red patent, 1970s style platform shoes stooped on the swingset. At that time, I obviously ignored my fashion rule, "Choose your shoes first and the outfit will follow!"

Other kids may have gotten excitement from the promise of a balloon or a lollipop or even a ride on the mechanical pony after an excursion for school shoes. Not me. The scent of the leather and the cold metal of the foot measuring device against my foot was enough. (I checked and there is no clever name for such apparatus. Maybe I do have work ahead of me!)

Shoes, when you get down to it, are a metaphor for life's experiences. I have had lots of shoe crushes which continue to this day. Very rarely do they go unrequited and they have seldom disappointed. The excitement I get when I have reached the cash register with a wad of cash or credit card and a box of seductive shoes is very heady. The addition of online shoe shopping or what I like to call shoe porn has made this experience only more exhilarating. The search option should be available for our romantic lives. Size, color, heel height, very captivating stuff, especially for someone with a size 11 foot who loves high heels.

There have been times when, desperate for a shoe fix, I have sauntered into a shoe store and said, "Do you have ANYTHING in a size 11 in black?" Happily, online shoe shopping and Nordstrom's have allowed me to be much more discriminating but have also led to a rather alluring diversion of my own making. Fantasy shoe shopping. "Sex in the City," Manolo's, and Christian Louboutin may have brought eroticism back to the shoe world but fantasy shopping brings this to a whole other level!