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Showing posts from March, 2011

Shoe box Jenga

I've mentioned my hate of shoe boxes before. Sure they look nice and keep your shoes from getting all jacked up and stabbing one another with their knife-like heels, marring leather, smashing bows and so on, but I really prefer racks. Racks allow the shoes to sit out and look beautiful. They can breathe and be admired by anyone who may peek in my freakishly-large Chicago closet (which may or may not actually be a pantry) in order to feel bad about their own shoe collection and lack of closet space. This game sucks. Unfortunately I have run out of built in shelves, and my racks are full, and I haven't yet gotten to The Container Store to buy more (I love their wire stackable racks) so I've started storing the shoes in boxes and playing Shoe Box Jenga . You know, the delightful game where you're totally running late in the morning, and of course need to shoes in the box that has made it's way to the bottom of the pile, and instead of taking all the boxes off

I am an overachiever

A new study said that 14% of women hide some of their shoe purchases.  Really? Only 14%. That seems kind of low. Then again this is from the Today Show, and they're probably full of crap. I mean how do they even come up with this data anyway? They sure as hell didn't call me. Not that I'm hiding shoes again , but if he doesn't ask or doesn't notice it's really not my fault. Part of the reason I don't mention every blasted purchase I make, shoes or otherwise, is that my husband doesn't really give a shit what I spend my money on. Still, sometimes you just feel bad for bringing home another pair of shoes so you leave them in the hall under a pile of coats for a few hours until you can successfully sneak them into the closet (not that I've ever done this). Especially after you said you don't have money to go to the eye doctor or something "important." Ironically it's usually because I bought some outrageous new pair of shoes I had

What to wear to a book signing

Last Friday my sister, Figgy, and I decided to take advantage of some of the free, silly things to do in the city while spending time together and went to a local bookstore (there are still a few) and walked into the signing of What to Wear Where , by the girls of " Who What Wear ." For those of you living under a fashion rock, or who don't care about celeb's clothes, this is an online magazine that always shows celebrities clothes and talks about how amazing they are and where you can buy each and every one of their horrid, hideous, overpriced pieces that were put together by a colorblind child who seems to have an affinity for floral print, ill fitting pants, jewelry from my garage sale, and something my Grandma wore in the 1980s. And not in a cool retro way. New line from Just Fabulous So I already knew I would hate their clothes, think the book (chock full of "fashion" advice for every situation) was stupid, and not buy anything, but it was free,

'Sole Sisters' films an obsession

I love film. Not because of anything shoe related, but on it's own. Movies are great. I don't watch TV, but I will sit down with a film every night. From dramas to foreign films, action and horror, I have found my niches and love them. A few months ago I was made aware of a film project that I have now been obsessively following via various social networks, and can't wait for it to come out. It's a documentary by Cynthia Salzman Mondell, an award winning independent filmmaker, and she is tackling the topic of shoes. Sole Sisters is the name of the project, and Mondell is talking to women about their shoes. The clever tagline reads "Every shoe has a story. Every woman has both." I cannot think of a more true statement, or a more fascinating topic. Mondell has been gathering women's stories about their shoes. What they mean. Why. Where they're from. She's collecting women's stories and creating a film. It's sort of like the non-narciss

Walking around superstitions

I'll admit to being rather superstitious. Not to the point of being afraid of black cats and staying in bed all day on Friday the 13th, but I'll take a few steps to avoid walking under a ladder, don't like to open gifts before Christmas, and have more than a couple evil eyes hung in inconspicuous places in my home to ward off evil. These are totally on a table. Last week my new gray heels were delivered, and I got home and the box was sitting on the table. I opened them and set them on the table as if they were a centerpiece. My husband looked at me and said,"Get the shoes off the table. You know that's bad luck ." What? Why the hell would I know that, and who ever said that? Crap. I put shoes on the table all the time. For photos, when they come out of the box, while I'm packing my bags. It probably happens once a week. I looked it up , worried now that this was like the broken mirror thing and I had somehow accumulated 487 years of bad luck, but

Texting consultation in shades of gray

I get a lot of people asking me for shoe consultations. Personal emails , questions through Formspring , and questions on Facebook , I can solve all the shoe problems in the world. Budget constraints, design problems, walking problems, matching problems...I can tackle anything, and come up with a good answer that doesn't make 98% of people cry. Every so often though I have my own issues that need to be dealt with, at which point I text my friends. Recently they've been getting texts about the caramel boots (what the hell matches them), and then this week there was another one that started with my hairdresser innocently asking me when I'm coming in to get my awful roots fixed. Cat: OK, neutral gray pump or black and white with yellow piping?  Hairdresser: Hmmm...Gray Cat: I think you're right. It's a medium gray patent, so very neutral. The others are awesome, but the yellow makes them less versatile.  These totally aren't them, but close. Hair

Carmel colored karma

I make fun of people. I'll admit it. I'm snotty and totally call people out for looking like idiots. And in case you missed it I spent my whole last post making fun of a woman who couldn't zip her boots over her calves. Shortly thereafter I was delivered a giant box of karma straight from Steve Madden . Carmel colored boots. These boots hate me. They are amazing. So amazing that as soon as I ordered them, I ordered this great oatmeal colored sweaterdress to go with them. Then I found a matching belt. Christ, this was going to be the cutest outfit ever. Then the boots arrived. I slid my feet into them, feeling the buttery leather and smelling that new shoe smell, packing materials all over the table. I was feeling smug since I read the description, and knew the boots were 14 inches around at the top. Same as my calves. I measured them before I ordered the boots. So why weren't they fitting? Sure, I got my foot in just fine, but as I tried to slide the