Monday, December 27, 2010

Too bloody normal

Nightmare of You Platform (8)
You can buy them


A few weeks ago husband asked what I wanted for Christmas. I told him I needed a pair of plain black ankle boots or a pair of unembellished red heels, preferably peep toe. He pissed and moaned about how boring that was, and we went back and forth with a million pictures and Web sites, and then I sent him the shoes I wanted.

Iron Fist Freddy Krueger inspired heels called "Welcome to my Nightmare."

Horror movies and shoes all rolled into one! And they were amazing, and contained the original colors I was looking for (plus blood spatters), so that's got to count for something. But with little time left to order shoes we decided to shop for them in stores.

The weekend before Christmas the over-crowded mall failed us. A couple days before Christmas the local stores that carry Iron Fist shoes failed. And instead we were left staring at walls and walls of shoes in the store and they had all kinds of Iron Fist shoes, but not the ones I wanted. So we agreed I'd find something else.

Too normal for something special
At this point I did what anyone would do and instead tried on 200 other pairs of shoes and walked up to him triumphant, carrying metallic gold and black tiger stripe heels.

"That's what you want for Christmas?" he asked as I nodded earnestly and shoved the box at him indicating that I was not paying.

"But those are so...normal. I mean they're nice, but they're really normal looking. Why don't you keep looking and get something else that's a little more different. And we can get those too."

Metallic gold tiger stripe heels are too normal? Good to know. They're so normal in fact, that when I got home I realized that I didn't own anything to go with them. I don't have gold sweaters or pants (although that would be cool). I barely even have gold jewelry. Eventually I paired them with all black and a loud necklace with gold in it, considered it cutting edge corporate, and went to work to push the dress code with shoes too normal for Christmas gifts.

Oh, and I still need those black boots and red heels. So really the whole thing will eventually cost me (and him) more money than if we went with boring in the first place.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Officially stylish

It's official. I'm stylish. Someone else said so. A designer actually. Oh, and my blog is too. Really it's probably just the blog since I don't personally know the person who presented me with the award. 

Thanks to Ushi Sato at The Shades and Scarf. He posted the link to the Cat in Heels fan page on Facebook after naming Cat in Heels as one of his favorite blogs. (If you haven't checked him out, you can see his stuff here.)

This cute, pay it forward style award stipulates that you mention seven things about yourself that people may not know, and send it along to your favorite style bloggers. The other one may take a while, as I have to be picky. And seven things about me no one knows...well what fun would that be. Some readers don't even know what I look like above the knee. Which is ironic considering I generally have had issues with people having full discussions with my chest.

In the interest of fairness though, you are welcome to ask me questions and I'll answer them. You can ask me shoe related questions all the time, and this time I'll even answer seven personal questions. Send them through Formspring, and knock yourselves out.

As for those other bloggers deserving of this award...I'll just have to give that some time and keep you guessing.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Shoes love me, pants don't

While most people spend Christmas shopping for others, hoping they like whatever you bought, keeping track of gift tags, and asking strangers to try on sweaters because they're about the same size as the recipient, my family goes practical. Every year my sisters and I each get a day with Mom where we wander the mall, purses stuffed with cash and coupons, and pick out all our Christmas gifts.

They all love me, even if I hate them.
Sure, it takes some of the surprise out of it, but it's better to get things you like than some awkward sweater that doesn't fit and you'd never wear, and you have to feign like you love it. Plus we've always done it this way. It's one of our quirky Christmas traditions.

So last weekend Mom and I busted into the mall, pushed past droves of children waiting to see Santa, scurried past the stage of tweens dancing to "Party in the USA," (WTF?) and walked into the store to pick out my annual Christmas wardrobe.

I brought a pile of pants with me to the dressing room wanting to have more than four pair in regular work rotation. I tried them on. A little bit of pulling at the hips; next size. Now they're sitting on my hips, drag on the floor like I'm a child playing dress up, and still pull at the hips. Try on a pair of jeans the same size as what I wore into the store and I can't even get my leg all the way into them.

I cuss, get an unapproving look from Mom, who assures me that the pants are obviously made for freaks, and we move on. 

Next store. Same size as the last store don't button, same size as I'm wearing into the store, not a prayer. Mom brings in the next size up; they fit, even in length. Oh, they're the "curvy" fit in "ankle length." I look at Mom. "They may as well call these the "short, fat girl pants."

She laughs. I scowl.

So we bought a bunch of tops and the pants for the short, fat girls (apparently me), and walked out, my self-esteem battered. As we walked through the department store on the way back to the parking lot we stared at the shoes. Glorious shoes. Rows and rows of shoes that only vary half a size in any direction, no matter where they're from. Shoes that don't make me look fat, or feel bad about myself. They will never look better on another girl because she's skinnier or has a smaller butt. They won't sit in the closet and mock me because they no longer fit, or randomly shrink in the dryer and become fit for a doll.

Shoes love me. For always, no matter what. Even if I do have an extra cookie and can't fit in my pants.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Hiding in plain sight

How do you hide things in plain sight?

If it's a pair of shoes in my closet, the answer is simple. Just put them in the closet. No one will notice another pair of shoes in there. Even after it's been cleaned. The trickier part is then introducing the shoes into regular rotation without answering where they came from and where they've been.

Let's back up. About a week before the wedding I went shopping with my sister and bought new wedding shoes at Bakers. If you follow me on Twitter (which my hubby does not) then you know another purchase was also made at that time. A pair of black suede H by Halston ankle boots with a studded cuff. And they were on sale. And they counted as a boot, so I got 25% off my other shoes. So like a week before my wedding I spent a couple hundred dollars on shoes.

New boots being incognito in the closet.
I was going to skip them and just get the multi-colored glitter shoes, but my sister convinced me otherwise saying that they were definitely going to be the cutest shoes I own for like a hot minute until I either buy another pair of shoes or wear ones she hasn't seen or forgot about. Plus my niece liked them. They were sparkly and she likes sparkly things.

She's a very bad influence. (My sister, not the baby).

So I gave in to peer pressure and bought the shoes and the boots. Buying two pairs of shoes the week of my wedding is not the smartest money move I've ever made in my life. So I took a page from Mom's book and kept them in the closet for a few weeks. That way no one knows but you and when you finally pull out the hidden article you can say, "I've had this for a while."

Seriously. Try it.

This week the moment of truth came. I was getting ready to go to a concert, and of course had to wear the most asinine shoes I had at the moment, so I paired them with black skinny jeans and strutted out into the living room like nothing's nothing.

"Those are cute," he said looking over from the computer.
"Thanks." I started breaking into a cold sweat thinking 'Dear God don't ask when I got them.'
"Come here. I want to show you these heels I found. Tell me if you like them," he said turning back to the computer.

And that is one of the reasons I love him. No questions and has shoe suggestions for me. Now he may read this and chastise me, but I already wore them, so it's too late to take them back, and it's kind of funny. Then again, he may not read this and my secret pre-wedding shopping impulsion will remain a secret between me, my sister and everyone who does read this.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Hiking heels

This may come as a shock to some of you, but I am not an outdoorsy person.

I'll give you a moment to collect yourself and move on.

It's not that I don't like the outdoors. It's fine. Pretty open spaces, sunsets (and sunrises), trees, animals, nature... I like it all, just not near me or on me.

The paved urban jungle I call home is plenty of nature for me. We have birds that aren't afraid of anything, squirrels that will bum cigarettes off you and rats that can open garbage cans and are larger than my dog. There's dirt and stuff in the city, but I try my darnedest to keep it all off me. I don't even garden. I tried once,  ruined a manicure and ended up with a dead plant in less than a week.

Domesticity fail. Traditionally nature, manicures, dry clean only clothes and heels don't go together anyway. Not that people don't keep trying though.

Because this looks safe and fashionable....
The latest try has Teva has teamed up with Grey Ant to try and bring the prissy people outside to commune with nature and fuck up their manicures by creating a Teva stiletto.

Apparently hiking, rock climbing and even mowing the lawn is fashionable when you Velcro these to your feet. Then when you're done you can slip on a dress for cocktail hour and be on your way.

Right....

And I imagine that no matter what they claim, the likelihood of twisting your ankle or knee rock climbing and hiking in these is just as high as it is if you wear a pair of Jimmy Choos to rock climb, which no one would ever do. Also, please note they MUST be worn with socks. At least according to every picture released by the company. And we all know how I feel about socks with sandals and/or heels.

There were suggestions that they were made to be ironic, which would be fine if they weren't widely available. Designers do goofy shit like that all the time (lobster shoes?), but they don't put that stuff in the stores for innocent eyes to see and the wealthy to purchase.

Wealthy? Tevas? They're no longer for granola-crunching hippies with their $330 price tag.

Wow, ugly and expensive. How else could this go wrong? Oh right, you're hiking in stilettos. Enjoy that broken ankle with your jacked up manicure.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Designing pet-able shoes

I'm kind of obsessed with designer shoes. Not really because of the name, but because of the uniqueness of the shoes, and I guess kind of because of the name.

Really the whole issue about shoes, or clothes in general, center around the fact that I'm  snob. I like having things other people don't have and/or want. Yes, it's shallow, but I'm OK with that. I'm working on embracing my flaws, so let's roll with this. 

One of the ready made designs at Milk and Honey
I loathe the idea of people buying the same shoes as me and making them look dumb. That's the worst, when you see someone wearing something amazing and they made it look like shit because they have the fashion sense of a goat.

Instead I would rather people marvel at my ability to look like a total cartoon (in a good way) and be envious of me instead of trying to replicate, and ruin, a good look.

You'd think with all my self-centered-ness and hatred of people having the same things as me I'd sew, design clothes, or something, but as far as those things go I'm totally useless. I take shirts with missing buttons to the tailors instead of doing it myself. It's not because I'm lazy, but simply because I know my limitations and I'm willing to pay for something that someone else does better than I do. (I should really try this out in a case to get a cleaning lady).

Bringing this back to shoes, I wanted to share my newest lunchtime obsession; designing my own shoes on Milk and Honey.  No, I haven't bought anything yet, but that's because there are so many amazing combinations. Flats (if that's your thing), heels, sandals, loafers (with or without heels), peep toe, pointy, strappy, not. You can even choose heel height, platform presence and height, texture, pattern and color. Bow or no bow, studs or no, glitter, patent, pony hair (I love shoes you can pet), or vegan. They have it all available, and you can watch your creation take shape on the page in the form of a cartoon shoe.The best part; as far as designing your own one of a kind shoes that other people can't ruin with their barn animal level fashion sense goes, they're affordable.

Too bad I didn't see this in time to order a pair of pink glitter dream shoes for my wedding. I guess that just means I have to create and extra pair to make up for it, at least one of which I'll be able to pet.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Princess heels and happily ever after

I have my life back.

Photo by Wasio Photography
For those of you who know me personally, read the blog regularly, or can read into my nervous breakdowns, I was recently planning a wedding. Actually it was my wedding. So now I'm married and am a Mrs., which really only makes me feel older. 

Aside from the new titles, there was also the wedding, which was a giant party, complete with beautiful shoes on me and all of my amazing bridesmaids. They all got to choose their own black shoes and all picked something different and beautiful.

I'm sure there are going to be plenty of pictures of everyone's shoes, but it was my last minute glitter find at Baker's that has already been captured on film (thanks to my amazing photographer).

Five inch heels made it so I didn't have to get my dress hemmed.  They also made my feet hurt by the end of a long, whirlwind day. Running around, walking, taking photos, dancing, and everything else that goes along with a wedding. All in 5 towering inches of multi-colored glitter fabulousness.

At the end of the night I kicked off those heels and sat down for the first time in hours. Now life is returning to normal, and normal means that I am going to have more money for shoes, because this wedding really crippled my shoe collection. I am looking forward to needing another shoe closet and spending money on crap I don't really need, duplicating styles. (Yes, four pair of black boots are necessary). After all, doesn't being married means you share your life with someone and live happily ever after? Lucky for me he realizes that my happily ever after also comes with heels.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Footloose

This weekend was the "last hurrah." The bachelorette  party.

We didn't do the stripper thing, and given that I spent most of my 20s in bars living life like a movie, there really weren't any more oats that needed sowing. Instead the bridesmaids and I got dolled up, went to dinner, saw a drag show and danced the night away, working on hangovers to rival that of my 20s.

Prior to all that though there were days of texts, phone calls and picture messages all concerning one thing: what to wear.

The only rules were to be as freaky or flashy as you want to be, and no one disappointed. Everyone wore sequins, big earrings, and even my heel adverse sister was rocking a pair of black pumps with her sparkly top.

I, on the other hand, turned a five minute walk to the restaurant into 15 minutes and for some reason thought it would be a good idea to wear five in stilettos with  a giant platform. Paired with a sequin skirt, black bustier style top and the longest black feather boa known to man, and I was almost a drag queen myself.

I was also chided by the Queen of Big Hair for having my hair teased up (for volume) so she couldn't get the pink tulle atrocity of a veil they made me in my hair.  Then again, I didn't do my hair with a headband covered in tulle and jewels, so it's really their fault for trying that in the first place. I would have been quite happy to just continue to shed feathers all over and wave the lollicock at people.

The night was pretty tame all things considered, but I still paid for it. With my feet (and a giant headache). Apparently dancing for hours on end in massive heels coupled with extremity numbing alcohol isn't really a great idea if you're planning on being able to walk the next day. Still, the pain is worth it for a few hours in those fabulous shoes.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Search me

Sometimes the best thing about writing a blog is being able to look at the web analytics. It's kind of like spying on your readers.

I can tell what country traffic is coming from outside my native U.S. (love you South Africa), how long people spend reading (average 5 minutes), the most popular posts, and my personal favorite, the search terms that get me found.

These are the first shoes that show up. Gag. 
Sure, there are the regular ones like designer names, "high heels," "leopard print heels," and so on. This week brought me the new weird one though.

"Heels made of cat."

"Bullshit, that doesn't work," I'm thinking. Not to mention the wondering of why anyone would ever look for heels made from cats, or any kind of shoe for that matter. So I go to Google, and search, and sure enough, there it is. Right underneath some ugly wooden shoe with "CAT" in the style name, a story on cat surgery, and some defunct brand of shoes called "Cat's Paw Heels."

Luckily, the whole first page is all goofy stuff, including industrial pumps, more shoes, and stuff for the North Carolina Tar Heels (which I now know is some kind of sports team). Never are there actual heels made out of cats. And, for the record I have never discussed such a thing on the blog.

Well, until now. I imagine traffic is about to get really freaky now.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Athletic heels?


I have a friend who apparently hates me. Sure, she acts like we're friends and all is well, but secretly she can't stand me and wants me to suffer.

Yep, I'm on to her.
I figured all this out when I had a Facebook message yesterday morning that only contained a link. I clicked on the link, seeing as how it was from a friend and all, and then I almost barfed on my keyboard. 

Staring back at me, burning on the screen, was photo after photo of the most hideous shoes I may have ever seen. Those stupid banana clogs on my WTF album are less hideous.

Women's Nike Heels
Apparently Nike has taken it upon themselves to take a reprive from making really hideous, overpriced athletic shoes, and started also making really hideous, overpriced, clown colored athletic heels. And they slapped the name "Jordan" on them, probably in the hope that the retired basketball player still has some market power.

Not if his shoes look like that.

Sure. You can be athletic and wear heels. I assume most people who wear heels probably also own athletic shoes. Even I do (although there's no photo evidence of this). But combining them has to be the stupidest idea ever. If I want to play basketball (which I don't) chances are I'm not going to wear heels. Even if they are made by Nike and are part Jordans.

Some things really should be left alone and not combined into Frankenstein shoes. On the other hand, if you're into sports, heels, clown shoes, and spending over $100 on them, maybe these are the perfect shoe.

Monday, October 18, 2010

The evils of Paris

Every so often a pair of shoes comes along that is unlike anything you can remember. They're beautiful, with slim lines, random and fabulous embellishments, make your legs look incredible...and yet they're inherently evil.

Enter Paris Hilton.

I should have known a snobby, skinny socialite would design shoes that would cripple me. Her logo even alludes to it, with the whole angle/devil motif.

Paris Hilton Women's Destiny Pump,Black Patent,8.5 M US
Dear Paris Hilton shoes,
I hate you.
Love,
Cat
After spending all day Saturday looking for the perfect peep toes, I gave in and called a friend to borrow a pair of shoes she had that were just what I was looking for. Black patent leather peep toes, and a bow that matched the bow on my dress perfectly. (Yes, I have black peep toes, but it was the bow that made these).

She had warned me that they were uncomfortable. She wore them to her own shower and cursed them daily for a week afterward. She practically bursts into tears at the mention of these shoes as she remembers the pain they caused.

Really, that's got to be an exaggeration. Right?


My toes were smashed and my feet lost feeling before I even sat down for lunch. The majority of the day was spent sitting and yet my feet screamed like I had spent a night traipsing through the concrete jungle with little to no regard for my feet based on consumption of alcoholic numbing agents. By the time everyone left I was ready to pry the shoes off and throw them into the river that ran along the restaurant.

Normally I can put up with an abnormal amount of pain. And I have been blessed with feet that fit well into almost any shoe. My feet aren't wide, or have a particularly high or low arch. The only notable thing about them is that my toes are small, but not really disproportionately so. Overall, I have pretty normal, average feet that are an average size and can put up with an above average amount of punishment.

Apparently I have met my match...and lost.

I guess at almost $100 a pair, Paris's own line of shoes are too "average" for her pampered feet, so she has no idea what kind of hell she's brought to women everywhere.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Corporate Shoe Rule




I am the worst corporate person ever.

Well, not really. Actually I rock at my job. Hard. But I've also always stood out in office settings. Apparently I'm not all button-up and stuffy.

I can be button up, but depending on the outfit I have this uncanny ability to make button-ups look kind of porno. Yep. Take a properly fitted and darted shirt, pair it with a pencil skirt, heels and a D cup and suddenly you've gone from "professional chic" to "naughty secretary." I have a similar problem when I put a vest on with anything.

My version of professional
That said, the litany of meetings requiring honest to goodness professional clothes (ie: button downs, trousers and jackets) has been insane the last couple weeks, and will continue to do so from the looks of things. So while I'm trying to make sure my jacket covers my breasts as opposed to frames them, and that there's no gaping between the shirt buttons, I never took into account that I'm apparently breaking the Corporate Ladies Shoe Rule.

Always wear sensible black pumps.

Reese Pump in Black Sharpshooter Color: Chocolate, Size: 7.5, Width: M
Sensible, but boring.
I was sitting in a meeting of mostly women when I realized that I was one of two people in a room of 30 not wearing black pumps. I was wearing red sling backs and another lady was wearing a snake skin heel. The whole rest of the room was clad in black of varying textures, heel heights and materials. Some ladies got crazy and had a small embellishment on their shoe, but that was it.

Was there some kind of memo I missed? Did I not attend class that day in college? What the hell is with the black pumps?

I have no problem admitting that I own a few pairs of black shoes. One of them even fits into the pump category and is downright boring. They're also hideously uncomfortable and never get worn. Instead I opt for something a little more exciting that coordinates with my outfit. That's how I end up with heeled saddle shoes, stiletto oxfords and black heels with a square toe. They're professional yet retain some elements of fun and fashion.

Or maybe they're not professional.  Like I said, apparently I missed that memo.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Obvious statements and no pants



The other day a girl I never saw before came strolling into my office and said she was told to look at my shoes.

Purple shoes and the great disappointment
I kind of stared blankly at her for a moment. "You were told to see my shoes today?" I asked.

"Yes, I was told you have fabulous shoes."

"Ummm. OK. Today is a little dull though. Just brown crocodile peep toes. I'm pretty sure they meant another day. I have shoes way more interesting than these," I explained while swiveling around in my chair and letting her look at my shoes.

She looked a bit crestfallen. As if I was was supposed to be wearing the most amazing shoes ever. The kind of shoes you think about and obsess over for weeks after seeing them. The kind that you look for forever and can't find.

A couple days later she stepped in front of me in the hall and pointed a finger at me.

"Oh my God, your shoes are purple!" she exclaimed.

I just stared at her. I know my shoes are purple. I put them on.

"And they match your top perfectly. That's fantastic."

Yeah...I planned that. It's called coordination. But I didn't say that because I don't really know this girl (like what her name is or what department she works in), so I said thank you and moved on. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before she points out another article of clothing I'm wearing as if I am totally unaware of what I put on my body every day. If she saw me wearing them with the skirt that matches her head may have exploded.

I'm sure I'm not alone in having people point out the obvious when it comes to clothes. I've seen it happen to others, and yet is remains endlessly fascinating. Probably because people only do it when you're wearing something they would consider "daring" or unusual. So in this case, apparently purple shoes that match a shirt is quite novel.

The irony of course being that the more unique or outrageous the outfit or accessory, the more aware you are of it's presence. No one goes out wearing a large hat or an elephant costume without being conscious of what they are wearing. But that is the exact time complete strangers will walk up to you and point out that you're  wearing a large hat or an elephant costume. Yet, if you see someone who has their skirt tucked into their pantyhose or is trailing toilet paper on their shoe, some hesitate because they don't want to embarrass the person.

I wonder what would happen if they saw someone not wearing pants? Point it out because they obviously forgot to put them on, or just assume the person knows their butt is showing. Anyone willing to try that?

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Pirates v. Military- Fashion Battles

I recently finished a book of essays and articles by Chuck Klosterman and was reminded of a day long forgotten. The annual unofficial holiday of Talk Like a Pirate Day, which is an international holiday celebrated every September 19 by those who really love pirates. They even suggest those who really love pirates have pirate themed parties, buy books about pirates and download official songs.

DKNY
Klosterman was discussing the day in relation to society's obsession with pirates, which we seem to still have. Unfortunately the recent bout of actual pirates (as recently as earlier this month) seem to have made the whole notion a bit less romantic. It seems none of them look like Johnny Depp, and they tend to take over ships and kill (as opposed to fight the undead and crack one liners while looking like a hotter version of Keith Richards).

Regardless, the point that pirates continue to influence society, and our fashion, still stands. This year I've seen more and more boots that have been described as "pirate boots." even those that don't have the description have elements of our romanticized version of the high seas. Buckles, scrunching and fold over tops are all in style this season, and all reek of piracy.

Ironically, military fashion is also back in style. So much so that mainstream stores are advertising their "military style" clothes on prime time commercials. What once was only found in surplus stores and army bases is now so common you can get it at the mall.

I guess the good thing is that with all these clothes in the same place, you can choose your side.

Pirates v. Military. Who will you be? (Assuming pirates aren't toothless, smelly, uncouth men and military involves walking around looking fabulous and requires zero discipline).

At least when the fights break out in the streets a la "Gangs of New York" they'll all be fashionable. Just be sure not to mix and match.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Bird legs and cement shoes

I'm really glad I don't have bird legs.

Or cankles. I'm not really sure how to spell that, but you know what I mean. When your calf and ankle meld together into one giant, soft, fleshy, undefined mess. Gag.

In reality I don't have amazing legs. They're not bad, they're just legs and they work just fine. They're not really long (or short). My thighs have never been as tight as I want, or as small as I want, and thanks to some freakish German genetics, years and years of dancing (and being in heels constantly), my calves are larger and more defined than some other ladies.

Thankfully though I have never had those under-defined, straight up and down, calf the same size as your thigh, bird legs that currently dominate runways. As I've been watching the new styles rolling out from fashion week I realized that none of the shoes look good on those women because they have no definition to their legs.

This season shoes have gotten chunkier. They're giant clogs and lace up boots, large heels, wedges, and other styles reminiscent of things I owned in the mid to late '90s. And quite frankly, if you have the aforementioned bird legs, they look like shit. 

I feel like having womanly (ie: shapely) legs allows me more fashion choices. Sure it may be difficult to find knee high boots that fit correctly because of the combination of a tiny foot and German man-calves, but at least I can wear any shoe from the dainty to the chunky, and not look like my foot is encased in cement. Unless I manage to get my hands on a pair of McQueen lobster shoes, at which point that look is totally OK.

The ultimate irony (to me) is that these women modeling shoes with their teeny-tiny twig legs, are also like 9 feet tall, so they wear like a size 14 drag queen shoe. So what you really have is something that looks like a styled, scuba flipper on teeny little twigs.

So maybe it's time to pull out my shoes from high school (because I've worn the same size shoe since 5th grade and never throw anything away), and start to rock the lace-up boots, chunky heels, combat and military styled anything, and for other people to wear clogs (because I won't), and rock those shoes like it's 1998, and be happy knowing that this is the one style where my legs look better in pictures than the models.

So go ride a bike, dance, or do something else to keep your legs from atrophying and embrace the shapely curves of calves and thighs. Your shoes will look better. 

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Something sweet

This weekend I finally got my pink glittery shoes.

Actually it was only one shoe. And it was a wedge instead of a heel. But it was edible.

My ever creative mother had a shoe cake made for me for my birthday celebration with the family. And in true mom fashion she went all out and had it made pink and sparkly.

The cake was a great wedge sandal, complete with ankle straps (that were not edible), with butterfly cookies on the side. In fact it kind of looked like the wedges I wore over there (because even dinner with the family requires a little lift).

So we ate and drank. The joke of the night being the Raging Bitch ale that Dad brought home from the store. I'm pretty sure there are pictures of everyone modeling one of these beers, though it was only my brother-in-law who was brave enough to make the inevitable raging bitch joke about his wife. 

Did he want a Raging Bitch?
No thanks, he came with one.

It was a few sweet hours of relaxation. No wedding plans, no housework, no work, no cell phone (I had it, I just left it in my purse), and made all the sweeter by finally getting my pink sparkly shoes. Maybe I can't wear them on my feet, but I'm pretty sure a piece of the cake is currently residing somewhere on my hips, so either way, I'm wearing them.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Cow walking

I am a woman of many talents. I can bake, write, wear thing other people only dream about, do 50 things at one time, throw one hell of a party, and walk in just about any kind of shoe while doing any of the aforementioned activities.

Those who lack the ability to walk in heels often do what my snarky friends and I have deemed the "cow walk." They lumber forward, their upper body at a slant forward or backwards as if they're about to tip over, knees bent, stomping one foot in front of the other, as if punishing the shoes.

It's sort of like watching the Jolly Green Giant in drag.

In all honesty I'm not sure what's so hard about walking in heels. I've been doing it since I could scuffle around my parent's room in my mom's shoes. Once I started buying them for myself I started small, and gradually built on height. I'm not sure when I started wearing things that only have platforms, and 4-5 inch heels became the norm, but that's exactly what happened.

Only once have I blanched the the height of a heel, and it was so out of control I felt like I was on stilts. The shoes were probably meant for something, but walking was definitely not it.

The trick to walking in heels is to walk like you're wearing a flat shoe. Heel to toe, roll through the foot, switch legs, repeat, and pretty soon you're walking. Add a little wiggle to the walk and paired with the right outfit, you can rule the world.

Other times heels can be nasty if you've been on your feet all day. Couple that with an indulgence in some adult beverages it can get a little tricky, but then at least if you eat shit on the concrete in front of a bunch of people you can blame the sky high shoes and a crack in the sidewalk and not the five gin martinis you just polished off for dinner.

No one is going to judge you for not wearing heels that make your legs look nine feet long and instead opting for shoes that are more sensible, while still being fashionable. But even after all those martinis, people will still judge if you're doing the cow walk. Especially if it's in a pair of animal print shoes.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Shoe porn and barefeet

The other day I got a text from my brother-in-law. It said Vibram FiveFingers and then a link.

Now, maybe there's something wrong with me, but my immediate thought was, "Why am I getting porn SPAM from the BIL?" Then I realized that texts aren't SPAM, and there's no way he'd send me porn (because that's weird) and it had to be something else. So I took a deep breath and clicked on the link.

I'm pretty sure I would have rather seen porn.

Instead there are pictures of people's feet adorned in those awful hobbit feet, rubber shoe things. Which I guess are kind of like porn because they're obscene looking, and kind of like a foot condom.

I must have taken a while because then he sent a text, "Cat in fingers?"

Ummm...no. I understand it's the closest thing to being barefoot, and that's good, and it's anatomically correct, and designer shoes are still more expensive and definitely not as comfy, but the fact remains that they're just not cute.

No one is going to go rolling into a cocktail party with those things paired with a suit or dress. They may help save your feet (of which you only get two I was reminded), but that's no excuse for looking like a neon hobbit. In fact, a couple months ago I got into a Facebook discussion with a friend when I posted a picture of someone at the bus stop wearing them (ironically with a suit). It was hideous and scarring, and I hope to never see it again.

So you can take your anatomical shoes with their individual toes. I won't stand in your way, but I may make fun of you. And if I ever feel the need to be barefoot, I'll just take off my heels.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Somebody's watchin' you

I love watching people. What they wear, their mannerisms, habits, nervous twitches. And even more amazing is how people act when they think no one is watching. This is when you see the nose pickers, face makers, eye rollers, nail biters, and on and on.

Today I encountered another breed of it. The casual from the waist down people.

I work in an office where the vast majority of us spend our time sitting behind desks, typing, talking on phones and shuffling papers. The dress code is business casual, which leaves a lot open for interpretation.

At one point today I was running around and noticed that not only are there those who push the "casual" part of "business casual" but there are also those who look great from the waist up, and the bottom half looks like they got dressed out of the hamper in the dark.

It's like the clothing version of the mullet.

This extends all the way down to the shoes (despite there being rules on footwear as well). Dirty gym shoes, flip flops, crocs.... In one trip through two floors I saw just about every shoe monstrosity that's out there, and none of which are in the dress code. There may have even been some new ones committed that I was too horrified to remember.

I understand that running papers around or chasing down the mail guy is hard in a pair of heels, but that doesn't mean you should look like you're getting ready to run a marathon with a button down on.

Just because you sit at a desk doesn't mean you can't ever come out from behind it. Minimally you'll have to be free of the atrocity-hiding desk and computer to leave at the end of the day (assuming you don't eat or use the bathroom all day), and people will see you. And they will judge you.

Always dress and act like someone is watching. They may be.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Tying one on

Yesterday I was picking my shoes out of the closet and realized I was wearing shoes with bows two days in a row. Not the same shoes, mind you. Two different pair of shoes, in different color schemes, with different types of bows, but still bows.

I was then that I looked around and realized just how many pairs or shoes I have with bows. Some have them on the front, Iron Fist has them on the back. One pair has a small bow above a leather tassle/fringe. Still another pair ties in big giant bows and remind me of tap shoes. Really tall, kind of club kid tap shoes...but the overall feel is there.

Then I realized that I was also stalking bow shoes. There's the Louboutin's on my Facebook page, and the mint green ones that Pin-Up Girl Clothing just started offering (I don't currently have mint green shoes). I even sent my sister a link to a pair of Betsey Johnson peep toes with a bow that I thought she would like.

I think I'm developing a sickness. I should really start focusing on leopard prints again. Or studs. Something. I think I need more diversity in my shoes. Then again, at least I know what I like. 

And by the way, today makes day three of only wearing shoes with bows.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Manolos, and other things I don't have for my wedding

Today in the states you can't turn on any show or open a website or a newspaper, or answer a phone call from my mom without hearing about Chelsea Clinton's New York wedding. The Vera Wang dress, unadorned veil, Hillary's dress (and how Mom thinks the tulips on the bottom made her look shorter) and buses of politicians and socialites.

Access Hollywood gave an overview of her whole outfit all the way down to Chelsea's shoes. They were supposedly Manolo platform peep toe, but I can't find a picture of them anywhere. But at 6:30 pm,  there is Billy Bush on TV waxing on about how unique they were.

Really Billy Bush? I have platform peep toes spilling out of my closet in droves, and I'm pretty sure Manolo Blahnik and every other designer in the world has been creating and selling them for years. This is hardly a new shoe style for weddings or otherwise. But now that Chelsea has worn them it's going to be all the rage.

Stupid Chelsea and her damn wedding. This girl spent more on toilets for her guests than my whole wedding is costing.

Actually I'm pretty sure she personally didn't spend anything on the wedding. Toilets or otherwise.

So her having Manolo's is no surprise, but it happened the same day I found out that the pink glitter platform peep toe from Pin Up Girl Clothing that I have been on the wait list for are no longer available. And I can't find the pink sequin Louboutin's I wanted. All the pink shoes  I liked are now missing, or uglier than I remember, and everywhere I look seems to think brides can only wear white shoes.

Bridal traditions be damned. I will find Material Girl pink shoes to match my bridesmaids. Although at this rate it may take me all the way up to the wedding. 

In the meantime I'll wait by the phone for Mom's phone call to get the full report on her shoes and other wedding details she thinks are interesting. And maybe I won't have designer shoes or a Vera Wang wedding dress, but at least my guests will have indoor plumbing.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Studs, studs, everywhere...

...and I don't own any.

At least I don't think so. I have to go raid my closet, but I'm almost positive that I don't have one pair of shoes that is adorned with spikes or studs. I have clothes that fit that category, but I think as far as shoes go the closest I get is a bunch of buckles or hardware.

Christian Louboutin has an amazing pair of heels that not only have studs, but also bows, which are covered in studs. The Clou Noeud Spikes.

I only own polka dot shoes with bows. Two pair actually, and they're disappointingly less lethal than Louboutin's shoe. I guess I could beat someone to death with them, but I can't stab them with the cute little bows.  

Today it was also announced that Ruthie Davis' will be coming to Neiman Marcus (which is great if you don't have a boutique that sells her stuff in your area). The shoe they advertised this new with was so great it prompted a mid-afternoon Facebook post, and some general designer obsessing. (Really, I love every shoe on her website). The picture was a 5" Swarovski Crystal and spike spike heel with a covered platform bootie. Who doesn't need that?

I don't even own a bootie or ankle boot anymore. I used to, but I got tired of them so I threw them out, or sold them. Something. It doesn't matter. They were black, and dull. They were not covered in the fabulousness that Davis and Louboutin have been creating and torturing me with. They didn't have bows, sparkles, peep toes or anything!

Stupid boots. No wonder I got rid of them. They were an obviously inferior shoe.

I'm not entirely sure of the proper occasion to wear the a fore mentioned metal adorned shoes, but I am sure I can find one. Or five. Hell, if I had those shoes I would wear them to vacuum, dust and do dishes. Not that I generally do any those things, but if my fiancee is reading, maybe he'll buy them for me in the hopes I will (but I won't).

In reality I'd probably just wear them while I boss around the cleaning lady (which I also don't have) and drink martinis.

OK, I'd just wear them while drinking martinis. That's the only part of the whole scenario that's realistic.

Monday, July 26, 2010

New old stuff

This weekend I went shopping in my own closet. Convinced that I had sandals that were a little more 1st birthday party friendly than something with a platform, I started digging through the blue bin.

The blue bin is my answer to keeping shoe boxes. It's basically a giant shoe box that I rotate shoes through on a seasonal basis. Or at least that's the theory. In actuality it ends up being stuff I don't wear a lot, shoes I forgot about, and boots that are big and have laces that get tangled in everything and don't fit anywhere.

Strappy black sandals; I forgot about you.
Chinese print sandals: I love you, but do remember you scrape my foot and only go with a few outfits.
Zebra print Kenneth Cole! I totally forgot about your existence. Let's be friends again.
Black satin sandals with rhinestones and a ribbon tie; you don't go with anything. 
Doc Martens that have been in hiding since the '90s, buckle patent leather boots that I bought after getting into a fight with the sales guy at 99th Floor in Chicago, and lots, and lots of black shoes. Why is there so much black in storage?

Elated that the summer isn't over I pulled out pair after pair of sandal, each one more forgotten and less functional than the previous.

By the time it was over, I had found more than eight pairs of shoes, probably won't wear half of them, was disappointed that I ever bought kitten heels, and still hadn't found something entirely casual and appropriate enough for Princess's 1st birthday.

But she doesn't really care what shoes I was wearing, because she got to eat cake.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Charitable acts of ugly

A few weeks ago I asked a co-worker if she wanted to take part in a charity 5K run/walk our office was participating in.

The exchange went back and forth via email as we pressured one another to participate, and finally I got this:   You will have to wear gym shoes though.  Can you handle it?

Thanks for the vote of confidence. 

I am happy to report that I not only did the whole thing in more than 80 degree heat with humidity that can only come from a swampland, but I'm not sore today, and my feet didn't shrivel up and fall off for wearing a pair of New Balance cross trainers. 

Today I am back in heels, and no, there will not be photos of athletic shoes. They're all ugly. I look at the whole event, from wearing athletic shoes to walking/jogging 3.6 miles in almost 90 degree weather all part of my charitable contribution.  

Monday, July 19, 2010

Fighting gold

Sometimes shoes pinch a little. Or they pull, or the buckle digs into your toe, the back chafes your ankle, and so on. The issues you can have with shoes is endless. This being said, discomfort in the name of fashion is something I put up with a little more than other people. So when the gold sandals I got a few weeks ago were not all that comfortable, I ignored it.

Saturday I was getting ready to go out, and was trying on gold shoes to wear with my black Armani tank. Gold slingbacks, bronze mules, or gold strappy gladiators. There were multiple stops in the evening, so it had to be something that could go from house warming to punk pretty seamlessly while pulling out the gold and bronze sequin detail of the top.

Gold gladiators it was. Never mind the fact that my toes went numb last time I wore them. This time would be different. This is what I told myself as I jammed my feet in them, when one fell off the bed and landed on the floor sole side up; and there, staring at me from the floor was the little print that answered all my questions.

6 1/2.

I wear a 7 dammit! I ordered a 7, and stupidly, I assumed that people knew how to do their job and send me the size I ordered. I didn't check. I could get my foot in them, so they obviously fit, even if it hurt a little. And now that I've worn them there's no returning them. So the problem is not my fat little feet, it's that someone in the fulfillment department is an idiot.

Michael Antonio, I hate you every time I wear these.

By the end of the night I was pretty sure the pinky toe on my right foot had fallen off (you don't need that one anyway), and I couldn't wait to get those off. My feet even hurt the next morning at the monthly Sister's Brunch at Nordstrom.

Two days later I'm still not sure my feet have recovered, but the feeling in my little toe finally came back.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

My superhero nemesis

If I was a super hero I would have a rockin' costume.

It would probably be something that's a sassy mix of club clothes and jazzersize with a bunch of hardware thrown in for good measure, and of course sequins. And my superhero self would wear a bitchin' pair of heels to fight crime and injustice. After all, good shoes are a staple of super hero costumes.

Wonder Woman had knee high red boots, Cat Woman wore black stilettos that were part of her unitard, She-Ra had gold knee high boots, and Jem wore a more sensible pink pump. (It's hard to be multiple people in a day if you can't run a little in your shoes).

They all also had their nemesis, and had to battle evil while looking good. You never saw Wonder Woman or Super Girl falling all silly in their shoes, and Jem never tripped while booking it around the music studio to change identities and foil the Misfit's plan. She-Ra never had a hair out of place.

Which brings me to my nemesis. The one thing in the world that can really cause aggravation and stop me at every turn (sometimes literally).

Those damn orange nubby things before crosswalks all over the city. I don't know if other cities have these, but Chicago has got them all over, and no one is even really sure what function they serve other than to make me fall over.

I don't have particularly long legs, so I can't step over them (especially in the clothes I wear), and you can't go around them without walking in the grass (certain death), so every woman in the city in anything other than a pair of flats must teeter over these things with the utmost care, because their one function is to try and break your ankle.

Really, if anyone knows what these are for I'm all ears. I thought maybe it was to alert blind people to the fact that there's a crosswalk, but they seem to only be in residential areas and not downtown where traffic is most congested and you can get run over even if you are paying attention. Maybe there's a large number of blind people in Chicago, or maybe the city just couldn't think of anything else to spend their money on.

It could also be to slow down speed-walking hipsters and the occasional overzealous nanny who is pushing the stroller too fast.

Until I know what these are, and I get a convincing argument for their existence, I will continue to hate them. If I was on my way to fight crime and injustice (or go to the grocery store), it's those damn things that slow me down every time.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Rolling out at weddings

A few years ago I was traveling for work and was stopped because my suitcase came in above the 50 lb max. It was like 51 lbs or something. So the baggage handler asked me to open  it up, take a pair of shoes out and transfer them to my other bag.

This would not work, I explained. There were no shoes in the overweight bag, they were all in the second bag.

He stared at me slack jawed for a moment and told me to forget about it and put the bags through.

Shoes generally aren't portable. They're bulky, don't pack well, and if you have heels like mine, you risk stabbing your luggage or ripping something. Sure, it's a pain, but it's a price to pay for having a pair of shoes for every outfit.

Luckily, someone has solved all of our shoe packing problems, and come up with a rollable shoe. Rolleez. Please note the sarcasm. Jury is still out on this one people. 

A friend sent them to me and said she's buying them for her bridesmaids so they don't all change into flip flops at the wedding.

Now, they're better than the slipper things I thought she was talking about, but they're still shoes that come in a roll. Though they do claim to have a "Signature Collection" that comes in nine different colors with clever names like "Boisterous Black" and "Couture Copper."

How very chic of them.

While I'm inclined to agree that they're better than actual slippers, and better than some flip flops, I generally stay away from shoes that come in small, medium and large. And shoes that have enough flexibility to roll. Fashion doesn't have to be that functional.

Then again if given the choice between bridesmaids wearing these or wearing Crocs (which Figgy has threatened), I'll take Rolleez

Thursday, July 8, 2010

No new adventures, pain and doggy play dates

It seems that the Fourth of July weekend put every blogger in America on vacation. News, politics, fashion...it was only the people with kids who had anything to blog about, and even then it generally took until Monday for us to see pictures of Suzy and Billy in their red, white and blue waving sparklers at the camera.

I did not wear red, white and blue, but there are pictures of me waving sparklers at the camera.

Even my shoes were bored this last weekend. I spent the entire time in a pair of platform sandals, previously designated for BBQs and the like, and managed to do very little except eat, sleep, spend some time with the family (including my princess niece, who learned all about purses) and hang out with my dog.

So last night it was it was wine and puppy play date with Laura and Axl (you can deduce who is the human and who is the dog), and again, no shoes because Laura hurt her toe when it lost against a door in a fight. Right in time for summer and sandal season.

The dogs then proceeded to sped the whole evening running over her foot as they chased each other around like maniacs.

At least she's still rocking a pedicure and cute flip flops with that band aid. Maybe we can find one with glitter for special occasions this summer.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Gladiators and t-shirts

My younger sister, Figgy (not her real name), and I try to do something good for ourselves once a week, so we attend a yoga classes, then grab dinner for sister chat.

Last night was no different, except I also found a way to get free booze involved. Enter a t-shirt release party.

Chicago Designer Anna Hovet released her new Signature Tee collection, and in an effort to support local designers and get a free glass of wine, we decided to stop there on the way to dinner after yoga. Plus it was literally around the corner from me at Black Market Cavier, which I had not gone into yet because I was afraid of finding cute things and spending all my money.  

Of course we had to change after yoga class. You don't think I'd go to a t-shirt release party in yoga pants and flip flops, do you? So we stopped home to change, touch up the makeup, and make ourselves a little more presentable.

I rocked a pair of leggings and gladiator heels (not sandals), and we traipsed over there to look ridiculous among wannabes and those who fancy themselves to be quite hip (we probably fall into the latter category).

It should also be noted that Figgy wore a shirt that had a bunny on it, but that's a separate story entirely.

Once we got there I went through the racks of clothes, and found a jacket I am now coveting (and I know exactly what shoes I'll buy when I get it). Figgy actually got a shirt by the designer, which says "Keep trying, I'm worth it," in Norwegian and has a hand drawn image of a girl carrying balloons.

Very cute. It makes me think of Nena and "99 Luftballons." And it's a step up from the bunny shirt in my opinion. 

Now she just needs to find the Norwegian part of the city for anyone to know what the shirt says. And yes, I made her take a picture of my shoes. Because nothing says t-shirts like a pair of heeled gladiator shoes covered in silver hardware.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

The cost of fashion

The Daily Express in the UK ran an article about what women spend on shoes in their lifetime. They said it was about $20,000 and assumes that the average woman has 16 pairs of shoes.

I think that may mean that I'll spend about $50,000 in my lifetime, if not more, based on the fact that I have way more than 16 pair of shoes.

That figure is in no way based on real math, so it could be more over the course of my life. Couple that with the more than seven pairs a year my significant other buys, and he and I will have spent enough in a lifetime to buy a small island.

The article goes on to say that women own an average of six pairs of flip flops and ballet flats (I have 2 flip flops and 0 ballet flats), three pair of boots (I don't really have time to dig those out and count), two pairs of "work shoes (what the hell is a work shoe?), four pairs of "foxy shoes" for going out (shouldn't all shoes be foxy?), and a random pair (like clown shoes?).

I'm not sure how things go in the UK, but when I was there (years and years ago) I bought like six pairs of shoes. I also remember people being rather fashionable, mostly because they don't wear gym shoes all the time like people do in the states, so they got props for that. 

I guess I'm just more of a pro than some of the "average" shoe shoppers out there, and maybe it's something that I should seek therapy for, but I have to admit, knowing that I'll spend more than $20,000 in a lifetime on shoes doesn't really bother me. Instead it makes me feel accomplished. Like I should buy more shoes and really throw the average all to hell.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Love me and my epic fail

Happy National Pink Day! Now let's all pause in horror at what a failure I am for having completely not known about it. Instead I wore purple and black today, and left all my beautiful pink shoes home with the dog.

I bet they're crying right now.

Some say pink day is for breast cancer awareness, some just say it's for fun. Regardless, it should be celebrated because it's a great color. Betsey Johnson celebrated by making her whole store pink. Or that could have just been a random photo. She's generally pretty pink.

In other news, this little Cat has been quite busy and now has a Twitter account, and a Facebook page. So be sure to follow me and like me, and follow the blog in two different places, and really just make your cyber life revolve around Cat in Heels. And send it to your friends so they can read my snarky comments about people's footwear and judge me and my sanity.

Besides, Twitter has been being a total bitch to work with, and some woman in England who hasn't updated her status since January has the name I wanted, so I need some kind of validation to make it feel like all that aggravation was worth it.

And just to make them feel better, I added a picture of my pink shoes so they get some love today.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Fighting defeat

Saturday I donned pinstripe Gaultier hotpants with a sequin top and matching vest for my younger sister's birthday party. The unofficial theme for the party was Glitter and Doom, so naturally I had to dress like a maniac, which means the only acceptable shoe for this was obviously the pinstripe, two strap, platform with patent leather accents from Bordello that I bought on an impulse about a month ago.

Aside from the amazing box they come in (pink and black with a bow) these shoes are awe inspiring. As I teetered around the kitchen, trying to get used to being almost six feet tall, I wondered if I could really handle a whole night in the shoes.

The trip down three flights of stairs was precarious at best, and as I stood with my fiance and friend, I wondered if I would make the whole night in these shoes.

Sure, they looked amazing, but the toes on my right foot were going numb and I had a cramp in the arch of my left foot. I felt like I was in pointe shoes again, and forgot the lambswool in the toe.

At one point the pain got to the point where I actually considered running back upstairs and changing my shoes.

"But you've never worn those," my fiance said, "So you're defeated by your shoes?"

What? Defeated? No way. There's not a heel high enough to totally defeat me. I always say that a few hours of pain is a small price to pay for looking good, and oh, did those shoes look good.

So I stood tall, and took very small steps all night, and by the time we got to the bar my shoes were broken in enough that the no longer hurt. Around the time everyone's feet started hurting, I had enough cocktails to make sure they no longer hurt. 

By the end of the night I was still walking tall (as if I had a choice), but the pace had slowed down to a snail's pace and I'm pretty sure that my feet were starting to fuse with the shoes. Even after I took the shoes off my feet stayed pointed at an awkward and somewhat painful angle, and I flopped into bed with a sigh of pain and relief.

My feet may have hurt for two days afterward, and they did nothing for my pedicure, but they looked good, and Saturday night I knew what it was like to be tall and leggy, even if it was just a pinstriped facade.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Doll Parts

When I was a kid I loved Barbie. Big surprise, right? The girl obsessed with fashion and heels loves the doll who has more clothes than anyone and feet that are eternally ready for skyscraper heels. 

As I grew older I didn't really grow out of Barbie and much as I grew up with her. She can do anything. Astronaut, president, teacher, rock star, and finally (in the form of the Mad Men dolls) they release Marketing Barbie. To which all of my friends respond, "I thought you already were Marketing Barbie."

I can only dream, and they mock me. 

My personal collection of Barbie dolls is actually lacking, despite my love of the doll. I occasionally stalk the Barbie Collector website and make mental notes of dolls I want, and may never obtain, and continue to envy Barbie's fashion and her relationship with designers such as Bob Mackie, Chanel, Jonathan Adler (even her furniture is designer) and now, Christian Louboutin.

Never have I wanted to transform into Barbie more than I do right now. She even comes with extra shoes from this amazing and iconic designer, who I feel should comprise a majority of my shoe collection. (The only thing I actually collect).

Louboutin's designs may not be as blatantly artistic as Alexander McQueen or as bizarrely wearable as John Fleuvog, but they reflect a classic look that refuses to go out of style, truly making them an investment for a lifetime.

Which, ironically, is precisely why I don't own a pair, because my lifetime investments (which are pathetic) are tied up in 401Ks and other "responsible" ventures.

Oh Barbie...you continue to torment me with your fashion, height, and now your shoes.

The one place I had a leg up, and the plastic bitch beats me again.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

A flater shade of red

My fiance wears suits every day to work, and last night he was looking at suits online to kill time while I was getting ready to go out.

I'm fixing my eyes while he's asking about shades of gray. I'm putting on lipstick while he discusses the appropriate length coat for his frame.

On the way out the door I jokingly asked, "Why weren't you shopping for me?"

"What do you need?" he asked.

"New red shoes. But not metallic red because I already have those. And not sandals because I have those too. And I have patent leather red that fades into black, so not patent. I would prefer a peep toe because that's the shoe that's dying right now. I don't really care if it's a slingback or not, just a basic red shoe."

By this time we were outside and walking down the street.

"Flat?"

"WHAT?!" I shrieked almost teetering off the curb. "Have you met me?"

"I meant a flat red color. I realize you don't want a flat shoe. That would be pretty funny though."

Right funny. Put the short girl who writes about heels in a pair of flats. That would quickly become the worst money ever spent.

Now if you'll continue to hold my hand, you may need to make sure I don't fall off my shoes tonight after a couple cocktails.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Cheap does not have to equal ugly

I am the queen of bargin hunting. Actually, my whole family is. Shopping is not something we have to do, it's something we need to do. Like breathe. May father said it's a sport for my sisters and I.

We each have a different style, and in the end we all buy lots and lots of stuff. As one may have guessed, I can find a good deal on some amazing shoes that rival the best fashion buyers. I go everywhere. Stores, online, department stores, places that don't normally sell shoes, and stores that some people never even bother to go in. Generally speaking I spend less than $100 on each pair, with some going over and some massively under. So you can imagine my excitement when I saw an article titled "16 summer fashion ideas Under $50."

That's my kind of fashion.

Ok, maybe not. Everything was ugly. Flip through images, see something kinda not hideous, wince because Chucks count as fashion ideas (haven't they been in style since like 1950?) and then I gag.

"If a gladiator sandal and a jazz shoe had a baby, we think it might turn out like a BC Footwear SO," The caption reads, and this is staring at me. 

Now I've had jazz shoes, and I currently own gladiator sandals, and if that's what comes out when they have a baby, I better keep those shoes in separate rooms. All the shoes in Chicago and I have never seen anything like this.

BC Footwear has cute shoes. Really. These aren't them, but it's not all bad. I just don't understand why summer fashion is apparently heinous if it's under $50.  It doesn't have to be, and if someone is trying to put together a list of shoes in Chicago for under $50, and want something that doesn't make people spit out their coffee, then they can call me. I have no doubt I can find something better than this pink monstrosity for under $50.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Taping the answers

"Do you walk in those?"

This is asked of me as I'm standing and heating up my lunch in the kitchen at work.

A blank stare followed the question.

"They're crazy. They're cute, but do you actually walk in them?"

I got to the lunchroom, didn't I? And really, they're not that crazy. Clown shoes are crazy. And the heel isn't that high.

I refrain from making all these comments, and simply respond that yes, I do walk in them, no my feet don't hurt, and no they're not hard to walk in.

I should have this on tape so I can play it when people ask all of those questions, which happens a lot. My shoes have always gotten these questions, and generally I think they're pretty dumb, and self explanatory.

If I couldn't walk in my shoes I would have fallen over, and I'll admit that it's happened, but not on a weekday. Yes, my feet sometimes hurt in crazy heels, and Chucks gave me blisters, so flat shoes can suck it because they're no better. And if they're really honest to goodness hard to walk in, chances are I won't be wearing them to the office where I am inevitably forced to walk around.

I had no idea that fashion, or shoes that break the mold were so scary to people until I started really expanding my shoe collection. So no, red metallic sandals don't go with everything, and I don't wear them to run marathons, but let's at least give me credit for some common sense.

Monday, June 7, 2010

The princess and the shoes

This weekend I spent some time with my niece. We let her parents go shopping, and I, who have been dubbed "Fairy Godmother" came over to hang out, play with toys, eat, feed the floor, and generally see what kind of trouble can be found.

As soon as I walked in she was drawn to my shoes. They were my sequin flip flops (no heels for chasing baby), and she picked them up immediately. I let her play for a while, and then we moved on to playing with a stuffed dog, throwing pizza on the floor, and taking a walk to the park.

Then today I got an email from my sister with a photo, "What did you teach her about shoes when you were here?"

She's started pulling out all the shoes and playing with them, which apparently only happened since Saturday. And to my own amusement, according to the photo, the ones she keeps playing with are the Clarks. She's already developing higher-end taste. She probably didn't find any sequin covered shoes in there, but I know for a fact that Baby Girl rocks some pretty cool gold shoes when she goes out.

Sure, she can't walk yet, but she knows the importance of a good pair of shoes, and knows just how amusing they can be. 

By the time she's five, she'll have a separate shoe closet.

Friday, June 4, 2010

In need of rain boots

The weather in Chicago has decided to match my mood, and it has started spontaneously starting and stopping raining, with thunderstorms imminent.

In a great twist of irony, I wore my sunniest shoes ever today. Literally, they're yellow. And I have approximately one item of clothing that matches these shoes.

Yellow, patent leather, open toe wedges from Delicious. I can't be mad about the fact that they only match one thing because they were on massive sale. Such a sale, that they're existence to wear with one shirt (which I got post shoe purchase) was totally justifiable.

They also have an open white wedge, so it's kind of like wearable art. Sunny, wearable art.

Unfortunately the lack of platform, open toe and patent leather-ness of the shoe is going to make my walk home a real bitch, because I'm sure the skies will open and I'll be sliding all over in my shoes, afraid of taking them off and stepping on a piece of glass, a needle, rusty nail, big rock....

My sister keeps telling me to buy rain boots. I look, and just shrug off every pair I see. They're all so fisherman-like. They're made of rubber, and kind of ugly. Some of them have this weird, powdery appearance, and none of them have heels. (actually some do, but that's a separate set of atrocities). 

So tonight, I probably going to get caught in another sunny rainstorm (already happened once today) and will slip and slide in my sunny, yellow wedges, and all around me hipsters in their Hunter boots will be secretly laughing at me as they go puddle stomping.