Cat in Heels

This is not about that shittily written book or the movie, which I will probably hate-watch when it comes to Netflix . Instead it’s about counting, assholes and how I can’t keep my footwear straight despite the fact that I only have like 6 pairs of shoes that fit. Last weekend I packed up the girls, tossed them and their crap in the car and headed out for errands. I had to return a pair of oxblood boots to DSW because the heel cap on one shoe disintegrated after 2 wears in my office. Of course they didn’t have any more in my size in the whole wide damn world, and so I had to return them (and of course get something else). The girls and I pursued the clearance racks because, well, sales, and I eventually picked out a pair of Adrienne Vittadini leopard flats that look like something logical I should own so I can chase babies, and a pair of gray d’orsay Vincent Camuto pumps. Admittedly the latter were somewhat rushed. These two are nothing alike. They can both stay. D was hold...

I love being told about comfy shoes. Believe it or not this happens to me a lot; as in a couple times a week. It's usually led up to with someone saying, "Oh my god. I love those shoes but I could never walk in those. How do you walk in those? Don't your feet hurt? My feet hurt just looking at your feet in those shoes." Well, sorry that your feet are so damn sensitive that they hurt just looking at my shoes, but seriously, grow a pair. They're my shoes, not yours. I didn't walk up to you and ask how you could possibly show your face in public while wearing Crocs , and those are way more offensive than the highest heel I own. I wear these because they match my pants.  After I explain that yes, my feet feel pain, and yes, I am insane enough to choose the way I look over comfort, and yes, I realize that may not always be the case but I am not ready to give into something "comfy" I get a look like I'm insane and obviously don't know what I...

I am so over winter. Most of the country is covered in snow, and I'm in Chicago where day after day we get to keep digging ourselves out. Each day there's more damn snow, which brings salt, slush, dirt, small frozen mammals, and God only knows what else. All of which tries is damnedest to get on your clothes, shoes, gloves, hat, scarf, face...whatever. Whatever it can ruin and makes your day difficult. I swear, snow in Chicago starts to have a mind of its own. And it's a vengeful bitch. The snow also makes my life difficult because footwear options are pretty limited. Heels and snow are not the best idea, and considering ice resides under most of the snow, it can be hazardous to your health. I've taken more than my share of falls because of ridiculous footwear. Peep toes allow for frostbite, and those shoes won't be quite as cute next year when you're missing toes. Satin and suede are automatically ruined when they go near snow, it's death to glitter, ...

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 int...