Classy & Fabulous, Parte Deux

A girl should be two things...classy and fabulous.

Gabrielle Bonheur aka Coco Chanel was definitely both.

Bonne Anniversaire, Coco!

Chanel started her life as a poor girl born to unmarried parents in Saumur, France. Her mother died before her twelfth birthday and she grew up in an orphanage with her four siblings. Educated in a convent, she would later be inspired by the habits worn by the nuns who taught her. Coco was quite the Renaissance woman, trying her hat at an assortment of jobs including dancer, horse rider, actress, and singer. In fact, it was at a singing gig at Cafe la Rotonde where she acquired her sobriquet.

To paraphrase Sinatra, Coco Chanel was one helluva broad. She wasn't above benefiting from many lovers who helped move her career forward. She once boasted, "I was able to start a high-fashion shop because two gentlemen were outbidding each other over my hot little body." One of these men was Arthur "Boy" Capel, shipping and coal magnate who was the love of her life. He bankrolled her first boutique on rue Cambon and guided her entree into French society.

Upon his untimely death in 1919, Coco developed an appreciation for rich, powerful men. Among her consorts were Stravinsky, Etienne Balsan, and the Duke of Westminster. He inspired her love of pearls and costume jewelry. Prince Dimitri, a Russian duke, helped with the launch of her fragrance empire.

During World War II, Chanel took up with a Nazi intelligence officer ten years her junior. She was hence interrogated and arrested by the French police but managed to escape the charges, thanks to Winston Churchill.

When questioned about her affair, Chanel reportedly answered, "At my age, when a man wants to sleep with you, you don't ask to see his passport."

Chanel left an indelible mark on contemporary fashion. The little black dress, quilted handbag, yards of pearls, boucle jacket, cap toe shoe, Camelia flowers, red lipstick.

Tonight, I plan to raise a glass of Dom Perignon and toast La Doyenne of the fashion world.

Happy Birthday, Ms. Chanel!

The Red Sole

Since I started this blog, I have been writing about my obsession for my first pair of Christian Louboutin's. You may be surprised to find out that I actually purchased my first pair four days ago and have not yet posted the event. At the risk of losing this blog's PG, well, maybe PG-13 rating, I must mention that a shoe friend of mine has compared the purchase of one's first pair of red soles to losing one's virginity. I suppose a girl might buy her first pair on impulse. However, I tend to doubt it. There is generally an obsession followed by a plan, much like first love. First romance might be shared with your close girlfriends but not broadcast in all fifty states. Unless you happen to be Britney Spears. (Sorry, Britney! I was just reminded of Justin Timberlake's witty take on that during an SNL skit!) Maybe that is why I was reluctant to write about my experience. I do owe it to my readers. I have written about a massage which is much more intimate!

The story begins with the LOVE pump on Saks.com. I had e-mailed a j-peg file to Emily, my 12-old daughter and fashion confidante. While she agreed these shoes were a work of art and "really cute," she advised my first pair should be Simple 100's. (I do have mixed emotions about exposing my young daughter to the world of excess but I have taught her to balance philanthropy, education, and beauty.) Bearing in mind my shoe size and that Louboutin's run small, I spent some time in research. I was unable to find anything in the Valley or even Saks Beverly Hills. Barring a trip to Vegas, a department store was not an option. I called the Louboutin boutique on Burton Way in Beverly Hills. In actuality, if you are paying retail and can't jet to Paris or New York, the eponymous boutique (and one of two official boutiques in Southern California) would provide the perfect setting! I felt a bit of nerves as I dialed. I was brought back to junior high days when I would phone a crush, hanging up when he answered, the adolescent version of a drunk dial. I gathered my composure and asked about the availability of my shoes. The salesman returned to the phone, "Yes, we do have a pair of Simple 100's in black kid in your size!" Ah, music to my ears! I gave my name to hold a pair.

The following morning, I donned pantyhose and a black sheath dress along with my mother's Baccarat heart necklace which she had received upon her retirement as a realtor. My mom would be with me in spirit for this day. Following a job interview, I drove over a canyon to my destination, getting caught in post-graduation traffic from a ritzy private school. I made it over the canyon, appreciating the beauty of nature in which Los Angeles abounds. I parked my car on a side street and walked resolutely into the shop I have passed many times. The awning beckoned me inside. I perused the shelves lined with various shoes and nodded hello to a few fellow Louboutin fans or maybe addicts, heads tilted as they glanced down at the objects of affection on their feet. The salesgirl brought me the box. I sat down and slipped on the shoe. I felt a bit like Cinderella but did have some fear that I might be the Ugly Stepsister. Well, not ugly, but I was a little skittish that the shoe might not fit. If the shoe fits...you know the drill by now. I sauntered around the store in what would be my pair of red soles and was joining a somewhat exclusive club. I handed over cash, birthday gifts, Mother's Day gifts, other savings. The salesgirl asked my name which was entered in the system. I was handed my change and a natural colored bag reading "Christian Louboutin" in that fabulous font. That was it.

I cannot say it was anticlimactic. I love my shoes. I even wore them for several hours to an event which was no small feat since I must be honest. These are not the most comfortable shoes in the world But, what price beauty? The raison d'etre for four inch stilettos can never be comfort. We girls wax, prod, starve, stretch, and do all sorts of unnatural things to look good. Shoes are not an exception.

I didn't stand a chance. These shoes are my personal Kryptonite. I mean, Mr. Louboutin is French. He shares my birth year. He believes in shoes as art. I suppose I could have avoided temptation but there is no turning back. No regrets.

When I was five years old, my favorite book was "Le Ballon Rouge," a beautiful story from a film by Albert Lamorisse by the same title. My aunts even made a birthday party for me in honor of the book. My aunt Alice read the story and we released balloons in the sky. Hence began my love of anything French and maybe even the color red. I am not saying I blame you, Alice, but this moment may have begat several of my obsessions! It is, as they say, all good!

So, it is probably no coincidence that the endpiece of my on-going birthday celebration is a purchase of red-soled French shoes.