Happy Shoesday To Meeee

Having been started off with a pair of completely awesome poisonous-snake-print flats from my equally awesome husband, I have a feeling that the second half of my thirties is going to go just fine.

Shoesday: Let's Party

I really need to recharge my camera battery and stop using my cell phone for these.

In preparation for the holiday-shoes-you-should-buy-and-tell-me-about post I am planning for later in this week, I thought I'd share some party-ready boots of my own. These are Sigerson Morrison, from my recent, largely successful quest to buy up all of the shoes that were produced by the original owners/designers, before one of my favorite brands becomes an offshoot of Guess, black suede with handy belts to keep their shoe-pants from falling down. I admit they do not exactly scream "fancy holiday party"*, but that's okay because no one ever invites me to fancy holiday parties anyway.** But with sufficient application of imagination and/or eggnog, I think you could see these as Santa boots, if Santa joined a biker gang and developed an affinity for four-inch heels. And if that's not a party, then I don't know what is.



*Which is good, because that would be awkward in elevators.
**Sniff.

Shoesday: Back Down to Earth(keepers)

(Note on the post title: When I started writing this, I thought these shoes were from Timberland's Earthkeepers collection. They're not, but I forgot to change the title before I posted it. These things happen.)

After last week's flight of fanciness, I thought it would be a good idea to get back to something a little more practical, and less likely to have a bunch of twenty-somethings setting up tents on my doormat.* These are Timberland's "Brattle Hiker," whatever that means** purchased in a surprising burst of sanity and worn on days when I know standing and walking are going to feature heavily in my activities. They're lightweight and waterproof and they might not have salespeople falling over themselves to serve me, but I did run about half a mile from the auto shop to the San Francisco Caltrain station on the first day I wore them, without hurting myself or missing my train. So I guess that's a good metric for shoe quality too.

*Ha! We don't have doormat.
**I suppose I ought to hike in them at some point.

Shoesday: For Whom the Belle Ships

Hey, I said I was stocking up.

Acquired: One pair of shiny black Belle by Sigerson Morrison flats, as a guard against the coming flatpocalypse. They'll be perfect once I add the padded heel inserts necessary for my bony mutant heels from trying to chew their way to freedom, and blisters.

Shoesday: The Wrong Goodbye

If there is one truth in life, it is that loss is the only constant. So it is with inappropriately maudlin blog post openings, and so also with shoe brands. One of my favorites, Sigerson Morrison (along with its spinoff line, Belle) has just fired its founders/designers/namesakes, and I am moving ahead with the assumption that it will not be the same again. And by "moving ahead" I mean "hoarding examples of the current line like they're sheets of plywood and a hurricane is coming." Which was made easier by the fact that virtually everything on their website is marked down by 70%, though it turns out that the stated availability is somewhat deceptive.*

There are, of course, other shoes in the store. But what I loved about the Sigerson Morrison line was that they could manage to be cool and different without veering off into outright lunacy**, and that is something I suspect they will not be able to maintain under the new corporate management.

On the plus side, I may have a slightly easier time holding on to my money.


*This post was going to go up yesterday, except that I had just started writing it when I learned that the majority of my order would not be shipped to me because they did not actually have those items in stock, despite the fact that they were still listed on the site, and I was too annoyed to feel like writing something praising their style.
**Well, mostly.

Shoesday: Gap Junctions

I don't know what happened with me and The Gap. For most of my teenage years and well into my twenties they provided the majority of my wardrobe. Eventually, I did transition somewhat to Banana Republic (my brief foray into the goods from Old Navy is best left undiscussed), but then, like a friend who moved away and got really into mid-nineteenth century nose-flute music, we lost touch and I don't really know who they are any more.* So it was fun, in a drunken-class-reunion sort of way, to come across these shoes from there and discover I liked them. Granted, they were part of a designer collaboration and a little more expensive than my last Gap shoe purchase, but I think they were worth it, if only for the late-nineties nostalgia and velcro straps.



*Except I still buy underwear there.

Shoesday: I Know Why the Caged Foot Sings

Or, Summertime, And The Walking Is Sweaty

Sometimes, you have to compromise. Sure, you might want to move into a treehouse, live on Pixi Sticks and sleep until four every day, but since your employer, dentist and reality won't accept that you settle for surreptitiously picking your nose during meetings. It's the same for me with shoes. As much as I love my collection of fabulous Heels of Insanity, there are times, such as when I am planning to walk for more than five minutes at a time, when discretion becomes the better part of not staggering barefoot through the second half of the evening. But since, to paraphrase the poet Young MC, I don't want to hang myself with the orthopedic rope, a compromise must be reached.

That's where these come in. They're Sofft which, as previously discussed, has some lovely items among the lumps of concrete. They're comfortable while still being flashy, which makes them perfect for next week's trip to Vegas, a place where you can go out in a leather skirt, pink bustier and six-inch lime green platforms and come across as, essentially, Mother Superior, but also a place where walking is your most viable transportation option, since the traffic doesn't move and the public transit doesn't go anywhere.

Compromise: Sometimes it's shiny.

Shoesday: A Doll's Shoes

Ibsen would be proud.

I know what you must be thinking."Wow," you're saying to yourself. "Those are some seriously rockin' shoes Daisy has got there." (These days, you think in ironic hipster slang. No, I don't know why.) "But her legs look kind of funny. Has she lost weight? And why is the pile on the carpet so deep? Is it hard to vacuum that?"

Good questions, I reply. Also, were you aware that you're speaking your thoughts out loud? Just thought you'd like to know. Anyway, the truth is that I do own these shoes, but I don't wear them, because they don't fit me. They fit this doll:

Who is, incidentally, dressed head-to-toe in Zac Posen and far more fabulous than I could ever hope to be. She lives in the room with my computer, and I would not be surprised if one of these nights she climbs up on the desk and writes a scathing indictment of my pathetic attempts at style, just because she can.

Shoesday: Tax-Season Boot Time

With a little less than a week to go in the surprisingly-elongated tax season, (Let's hear it for Emancipation Day!) I think it's about time to take a break and contemplate some boots.* Like taxes, they are surprisingly high and will be in effect whether the government shuts down or not. Unlike taxes, they have non-functional buckles around the back, partially leather-wrapped stacked heels and make my ankles look thin.

Boots: Better than taxes.




*Already done with your taxes? Go away, I hate you.

Shoesday: A Potentially Premature Celebration of Spring

Spring! Sunshine! Flowers! Seasonal allergies! Molded plastic shoes! One of these things is in this picture.

I know that the third straight day of sunshine is probably too early to be breaking out the maypole and the sunscreen and the Lady Schick, but I don't care. It has been raining for, by my estimate, forever and I am ready for it to be spring, even if I have to will it into existence all by myself.

Actually, and I don't want to sound ungrateful, but it would have been nice if they could have pushed this up a few days so it could have been sunny on the weekend. Cameron's friend Ken was visiting on Saturday and we spent it visiting wineries around Monterey*. And I would have appreciated some nice weather for that, both because I want California to be on its best behavior for visitors, because I like it when people are jealous of me, and because hauling two increasingly drunk Canadians around in my severely underpowered car would have been easier without the occasional loss of visibility. But anyway, it was still fun and I only succumbed to one, brief bout of road rage right at the end, so I'm calling it a successful day. I still wish it had been nicer, though.

Then I could have worn these shoes.

*Them drinking, me driving.

Shoesday: Spring Wedging

Remember how I said I was going to buy these? Well, I did. I am nothing if not a shoe addict of my word. In fact, I even had a good reason*: This weekend, Mom and I are heading off to Spring Training**, and what is a weekend in Arizona without attractive and comfortable sandals. And they are comfortable, surprisingly so, given their height. (Though less surprisingly because they come from the same line that two separate people described to me as "the holy grail of shoes.") The only downside is that it seems like this level of comfort was reached by installing tiny whoopee cushions in the sole of each shoe, causing my every step to be accompanied by a series of discreet foot-farts. But I don't care, and do you know why? Because this weekend, when the forecast here looks like this:

My farty shoes and I will be looking (if possibly not sounding) fabulous in a place that's a little more like this:

*"excuse."
**Viewing, I mean, not joining. Mom's minor league contract wasn't picked up this year.

Shoesday: Typecast

Everyone has a type. Sure, you think you're a wild and unpredictable free spirit, but one day you're going to wake up and realize that every guy you've ever dated has a speech impediment and all of your jeans are light-wash bootcuts with an 8.5 in rise. You can't escape it, and neither can I.

Exhibit A is these shoes. And these are B and C.* Yes, it's true and I'm ready to admit it: I have a serious thing for Sigerson Morrison pointed-toe wedges, and I am not ashamed. Why would I be ashamed? These are awesome. Don't believe me? Well, here's a close-up of the texture in the leather and the detail on the backs:

I'm right, right? Total subtle badassery. Plus, unlike a lot of ankle boots, they're cut low enough that it doesn't look like my calves are swimming awkwardly in a pair of shoe-buckets. Which is good, because even the best pointy-toe can't save shoe-buckets.


*And if I wasn't on a buying freeze and they weren't sold out in my size, these would be D, E and/or F.

Shoesday: Does It Float?

I bought these on an impulse, because I thought they were waterproof. There was nothing in the product description that actually said they were; they just looked like they might be. Unfortunately (or not) we've been having a very warm and dry spring, and it hasn't rained since they arrived*. With any luck, I won't have a chance to really test them until winter, by which time I will almost certainly have forgotten that I meant to.


*Except for that one day the weekend before last when we were out at Costco and bought a wine fridge, and were trying to figure out how to cram it into my tiny car when the storm entered the phase technically known as "vertical swimming pool." But I wasn't wearing the shoes then.

Shoesday: Fasten Your Shoe Belts

Oh Sigerson Morrison*, why can't I stay away from you? I have lovely flats, as many as any rational person could possibly need, but then you have to go and release a style with cool buckles and a sweet rounded toe, and it's all I can do to wait for them to go on sale. But it ends here-- it's this pair and nothing more. At least until these reach further markdown. Or these. But not these.



*And your diffusion line, Belle.
*Also, while I would probably not personally wear them, these may possibly be the sexiest boots known to man.

Shoesday of Thanks

Since it seems to be the moment for such behavior, I thought I'd use this time to mention a few things I am thankful for. (I suppose, in the true tradition of the holiday, I should find some Indians to thank for providing my with food, and then send them to live in South Dakota, but I don't know any of the right kind and I think Archana and Hema would just be confused.) Right? Here we go: Good health, a steady job, a steady job with good health insurance, a loving family, a wonderful boyfriend who only gets a little upset when I jab him in the eye first thing in the morning, a car that finally works, chickpeas (my new favorite legumes), a stylist who is capable of giving me a reliably decent haircut for a price that comes in under 'a fortune,' Trader Joes' frozen lunches, red wine, white wine, pretty much any kind of wine except white zin, which is really just alcoholic Kool-Aid, and you can make that yourself much cheaper, the fact that most of the annoying people have been eliminated on Amazing Race, and these shoes. I saw them about a year ago and wanted them SO MUCH, but I wasn't able to pull the trigger in time and they got away. And I thought they were gone for good, until I was browsing Editor's Closet the other day, large as life with one pair left, in my size.* It was a Thanksgiving miracle, just like when the pilgrims thought they didn't have enough turkey for everyone, because Goodwife Hawkins showed up with seven of her nephews and the pilgrims had to scramble to find the extra leaf for the table and borrow some chairs from the Indians. But everyone would filled up on millet bread, and there was even leftover stuffing, which is what made it a miracle.

*Okay, so technically they are slightly smaller than my size, but this is not important. They fit because they have to fit.

Shoesday: Nature Girl

(I'm sorry the picture is so terrible. My camera has been dying a slow and painful death, and will be put out of its  misery as soon as the new one I ordered from Amazon arrives. My pictures will still be bad, but at least they will be well-lit and in focus.)

I am not, perhaps, the world's most dedicated environmentalist. True, I wrote a column on the subject in high school, cribbing most of my  material from "50 Simple Things Kids Can Do to Save the Earth," but I didn't actually do any of those things. Also, it may have been the only environmental column to ever feature a defense of logging. Anyway, suffice it to say that concern for our shared planet drives very few of the decisions I make in my life, which is why I am feeling so smug about liking these shoes so much. They're from Timberland's new Earthkeepers line, made with non-specifically ecologically sound techniques and materials and rated on a completely meaningless scale of Earthy goodness. But they are also really comfortable and completely on-trend with the whole oxfords-for-women thing, and I love them. And now I really want these too, to wear with woolly tights and this skirt if the weather ever actually gets cold enough.

After all, the planet isn't going to save itself.

Shoesday: We Can Dance If We Want To*. . .

. . .As long as we file a Dance Requisition Form with the HR department, complete four hours of training and can demonstrate that the dance could not be provided by an approved minority-owned business.

Recently, the small biotech company I had been working for was acquired by a much, much larger company, which will remain nameless because I'm not that stupid. There are a lot of benefits of working for a major multinational, such as the benefits, and the potential for job mobility, and the greatly reduced chance that I will show up at work one day and be told we've run out of money. So it' got that going for it, which is nice.

But it also has a lot of bureaucracy, and a lot of lawyers, and where you have both bureaucracy and lawyers you have rules. A lot of rules. And since I work in a lab,** we have special lab rules. Like not being allowed to walk through the lab without full protective gear (gloves, glasses, labcoat), and that we can't use 70% ethanol anymore because it's dangerous (I wish someone had told me that at about ten-thirty, three Saturdays ago). And, most critically for me, no fabric shoes are allowed.

Which is where these come in. I mean, forget leather, what can be more safety-conscious than shoes made entirely of plastic? They even have three straps, for extra security! Okay, so breathability is kind of a problem, and the Vivienne Westwood aspect may make them slightly inappropriate. But whatever; nobody's told me any rules about wearing sexy shoes in the lab.

Yet.




*It's a safety dance!
**Most dangerous thing I deal with regularly: deionized water.***
***Okay, sometimes hydrochloric acid. But not that much.****
****And I guess the e. coli would be bad for me if I actually ate a bunch of it, but I'm not exactly inclined to do that.

Shoesday: Better Red Than Wet?

I'll admit it, these boots are a bit of a What Was I Thinking moment for me. They seemed so cute in the pictures! They were on sale! I didn't really have any rain boots! But the fact of the matter is, when they arrived and all of that red was staring me in the face, it occurred to me that these were going to be a little tough to, you know, actually wear. I mean, this is a lot of red. They would make a good piece of a superhero costume, if I wasn't far to lazy to ever wear a costume more elaborate than "witch hat." And they're certainly wide enough to tuck my pant legs into, which might come in handy in the event of a deluge. But otherwise all I see happening with these boots is that I wear them to work and everyone, without exception, stops, looks at my feet, and says, "Wow, those are some. . . red boots."

Still, it could be worse. At least I didn't go with the yellow.

Shoesday: Gang Aft Agley

This week, Bouchercon, the World Mystery Convention, is coming to San Francisco for the first time in years, and I have been looking forward to it for months. I booked a room at the convention hotel, so I wouldn't have to schlep back and forth from home, and I've been giving serious thought to what shoes were going to make the cut for the second suitcase I've been planning to pack for that purpose. These boots, obviously, made the cut.

But Life isn't always nice about these things. My grandfather had a serious stroke yesterday, and right now there is a big question mark next to a lot of things, with Bouchercon landing somewhere down on the list. I hope things will turn out well, and I will still be able to be there, at least for part of the time, but if I don't make it I would just like to ask that someone have two or three too many lemon drops and say something highly inappropriate loudly in a crowded bar, for my sake.

Shoesday: Twice As Nice

So, I'm not sure if I've mentioned anything about this, but I've been suffering from some muscle pain in my legs lately. (You had no idea, right?) And along with giving me an excuse to skip the gym for a couple of days this has caused something unprecedented to happen: I have worn the same shoes to work for two days in a row. I know; I can barely believe it myself. But with any kind of heel being out of the question, and most of my flats being kind of short on padding, I find myself turning to these for my sore-legs needs. They're Faryl Robin, which means they're cuter than anything this comfortable has any right to be, and hey, metallics are neutrals, right? So they go with anything.

I'm thinking I may wear them again tomorrow.