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Showing posts from May, 2011

Changing seasons and forgotten sandals

Chicago has finally started to decide to act like spring, and assuming it ever stops raining at random intervals, it's going to be sandal season soon.

Changing seasons means that I break open the blue bin of forgotten shoes and rediscover all the shoes that I didn't take out last year, the shoes I forgot I owned, don't like and don't know why I own, and everything in between.

Last night I got a sudden burst of energy and curiosity, coupled with the annoyance of not being able to get through my closet, and I busted open the blue bin to put away the boots and break out the sandals. And I'm pretty sure that I didn't go through this thing in like two years, because there were shoes in there I totally forgot I owned.

Zebra kitten heel sandals by Kenneth Cole, silk dragon print heels from Aldo, Prada mules, another pair of Kenneth Cole sandals, red sandals, black Nine West sandals, my beloved Bakers wedges that go with everything, a bunch of kitten heels (I don't …

Velcro is for dummies

A few weeks ago I was asked by a friend when the appropriate time in life to stop wearing Velcro shoes is.

I'm pretty sure the correct answer is, "When you were five." Do they even make Velcro shoes for people who have gone through puberty?

Well, apparently they do, and there she was, face to face with a Velcro shoe wearing, suit clad adult on the Orange Line.

I missed the wonder that was Velcro. As a child of the 1980s one automatically assumes that I had Velcro shoes. Those wonderful shoes that go on and off with such ease. No stopping to bother with tying laces that would come undone. No broken laces or being tripped over because you knelt down to tie your shoe in the middle of a kickball game. No untied laces that are soaked from being dragged through puddles because you didn't want to stop and tie them (probably because of that asshole kid who can't see where he's going and trips over you).

Then again, what the hell would I know about Velcro shoes? The on…

Puppy fits and empty threats

Anyone who has a dog has probably lost a pair of shoes to the dog. Or at least part of a pair of shoes.

My dog, Thor, chewed the strap off a Fluevog when he was a puppy after I drunkenly left it lying on the floor all night. Thank God they were able to fix it and restore my shoe to it's previous fabulousness.

My freak out must have left quite an impression on my little blonde chihuahua though, because now he knows how to press my buttons.

See, Thor hates it when you leave. Not all the time, but sometimes. There are days that you can come and go 50 times without him bothering to do anything other than get off the counch and wag at you. Then there are the days he freaks out and raises holy hell, running around whining, standing in the hall, not going back in the door, meeping and biting at your pants while crying real tears (I swear it).

Those days I know I'm coming home to some kind of mess.

Usually he'll just throw all the pillows off the couch, or pull the stuffing from …

A tale of two purples

My purple shoes were dying. The straps are almost torn off, the elastic is dead, the soles are worn through, there's scuffs all over the toe, and the leather is torn. The inside of the shoe is in awful shape, having passed comfort long ago and going straight into nasty.

I've posted on Facebook about it all before. Every time I wear them (which is pretty frequently), bitching and moaning about my poor purple shoes and the fact that I couldn't find anything I liked enough to replace them.

Last week I finally saw a pair that would suffice as some kind of sad ass replacement. Purple patent leather, slingback, peep toe with a 1" platform and a 4" heel.

I got all caught up on the shinyness of the leather how cute the peep toe was, and ordered them. Today they arrived in their little box, all stuffed with paper and those little packets of poision that repeatedly tell you not to eat them. I slid them on and pranced around the dining room like a prom queen.

My husband loo…

Doctor, Doctor!

Shoes wear out. I realize that, and am totally OK with it.

Sometimes I can get them fixed. A new heel cap or sole does wonders to breathe life into a new pair of shoes. Then other times shoes are damaged in a way that makes you want to cry. (Like when my puppy chewed the strap off a Fluevog). Or today when I saw a tear in a pair of Steve Madden shoes that are near and dear to me.

These are affectionately known as my "Grandma" shoes, because she would have loved them. That means their either old lady shoes, or my grandma had awesome taste in footwear. Hint: It was totally the latter.

So you can imagine my horror today when I saw a tear in the side of my white and black snakeskin shoes. A tear in the middle of the shoe, near the seam, that was a folded piece that created a little pocket. A little pocket of terror. A pocket with a tear that is threatening to become something larger and ultimately destroy my shoe.

How does something like this happen? My shoes are cared for. Kept …

Tailoring the look- a lesson on pants and shoes

Last night I met a friend after work, chatted, ate and drank, then went our separate ways. While I was waiting for the bus, she texted me about a homeless person who apparently recently crapped themselves, and was sitting in her train car.

Classy. Gotta love big cities.

After suggesting she change cars, she followed up with, "Also, blog post on appropriate pant length given your shoes."

Not only was she offended by Stinky McPants-Shitter, but she was also appalled by a woman who obviously didn't know how to pair her pant length with the appropriate footwear.

Two grainy camera phone photos followed to show me the offender.

Yep. Pants too short for the shoes. Fashion fail.

I don't have long legs, and I don't wear flats, so this is never really an issue with me. All my pants are too long, and require at least a three inch heel to get them off the floor. Really, that's part of the reason I only wear heels. Because if I didn't then all my pants would drag…

I want Kandee

Writing about shoes is an exercise in masochism for me.  I write and research different fads, trends, and designers, torturing myself with pictures of shoes and information about shoes that cost more than my first car (which was a piece of shit).

The information gets emailed to me in droves. Daily emails of shoe sales and new designer lines, new trends, new things I must have to stay at the forefront of shoedom. Wonderful, beautiful things that I write about, link to and obsess over that I don't own (like Swarovski encrusted Louboutins).

 Then there are the ones that actually come within the budget, and then you want the whole line and the budget is shot to hell.

Enter my new obsession: Kandee shoes.

A small UK designer has put together all the best trends into any kind of shoe you can think of and sweetened them up with names like "Tang," "Space Sherbet," "Peanut Crunch" and "Blue Raspberry Slushy."

Zero calories, and bound to look good …