The Personal Shopper

The shoes in question...

No one knows better how to curb the (ahem) less than corporate (read here "good girl gone bad") aspects of me than my best friend Syd. I am visiting Syd here in Hinsdale, IL, which is about 40 minutes outside Chicago. It's pretty here, but a little crowded- the issue being there are lots of HUGE houses here on little bitty lots. And EVERYONE is an individual- and jockeying for the Miss Unconventiality prize for architecture. Here you have gigantic faux Tudor cottages sharing space with medieval manses lacking only in moats. Buildings so ugly they would make a gargoyle jump. Pity the time for sieges and pillaging has passed.

And speaking of jump. I was sitting out on the patio having an illicit smoke out of my god-daughter Nikki's eyeshot when a noise made me, and Miko the Keeshound jump- I squeaked and she barked and we both ran for the door- the screen door which has a broken latch. It is the familial bone of contention as to WHOSE job it is to fix it and how complicated the repair will be- The husband point of view: duct tape. Wife point of view: nothing short of a home-makeover will solve this issue. I just wanted IN. Somehow between Miko and I we managed with a combination of paws and claws to get the door open and let it slam shut behind us. WHAT was that noise- the kids looked up from the TV, actually it was more of an eye flick- "What noise?" they said-rather dispassionately I thought- considering it sounded a great deal like the soundtrack for a horror movie. Just then Syd came to the patio door- "WHAT IS THAT??" "What?" Syd's ears being somewhat desensitized from living with children for the past 14 years. "THAT" I said- whispering in case whatever it was could hear me
That SCREECHING." as the sound crested and receded outside. She looked at me as if my head had fallen off but my lips were still moving. "Cicadas" she smirked. "Mel- you need to get outSIDE more."

So we went to the mall. Men watch sporting events or TV and are social that way. Women shop. It is similar to the male bonding ritual in that like men do not need to actually PLAY baseball (or basketball, football badminton or whatever flimsy excuse for a sporting event allows them 3 hours of female-free time and all the chicken wings they can consume) I find women do not ACTUALLY need to make a purchase while shopping- maybe a latte- all the looking can make you thirsty. Sometimes we eat- but only if not clothing shopping where one of those incredibly large pretzels can be the difference between

I am a GODDESS

and

I am a COW

. If shoe shopping- we may eat.

Here in the middle of the country I was not anticipating any cutting edge trends but I was looking for an essential- the perfect black pump; the Holy Grail of Shoes- comfortable- yet sexy- a little toe cleavage- but not TOO much, the right heel 2 3/4"- 3" not enough to hurt me- but seen with the right skirt- to encourage the opposite sex to say "ouch"- not too shiny or too matte- a mid-thickness heel being thick enough to support me for the day without causing shooting pains in my lower back but not so thick as to remind one of say...pillars supporting the facade of the NY Public Library. Most important; to give the impression that you are both WITHIN fashion boundaries yet free from gravity's constraints. Oh and somewhere under $300 would be nice. And we only had this afternoon to shop- Syd's kids get home at 3...

We left the house at ten a.m.- while I am on vacation I move at a pace that makes folks in assisted living say "HEY get a MOVE on" I relax with great enthusiasm- the opposite of a Porsche I go 100 mph to inert VERY quickly. But we went to a big enormous shoe emporium here... and there were many many choices- black pump wise. I eliminated everything with a peek toe (at least in black...more on this later) Syd asked "What heel height?" I replied- "Sensible- 2 3/4"- 3"..no more" Syd gave me a look that let me know we each defined "sensible" somewhat differently. I came across a beautiful pair of Elie Tahari slingbacks with a fairly lethal pointy toe- You can wear slingbacks with PANTS she said. I mentioned Mr. L's prohibition on heels/slingbacks and that he worked for Huge Mega Big Corporation a really long time- very smart- EXPERT even... Syd made a noise similar to the one used to cheer in the Bronx. "Mega Big Huge Corporation is run by GUYS- what do guys know about shoes?" she said hip AND eyebrow cocked. "They know enough to chase them when a curvy calf and skirt are piled on top..." I opined. She just laughed- "get the shoes" I asked her to get me a half size larger- "That longer toe will just make you look like a b**ch" she said. I looked at her- and the issue is? As far as I am concerned- BONUS! Bitchy at work means never having to say- "Do you take cream and sugar?" All good.
The perfect pair of black pumps (ok nigh-perfect, ideally the perfect pump will be delivered by Lancelot- or Manolo Blahnik on a white charger)presented themselves- had a 3 1/2" heel with a 1/2" platform thereby restoring the height/balance ratio to 3" and a round toe- very kind to feet.

Added to the pile are a pair of shoes which will give Mr. L. shivers- (insert excuses here) I NEEDED brown shoes- They were 30% off and they looked HOT. Andtheyhaveaslingbackandatinypeektoe- It's like ripping a band-aid off- say it fast- hurts less. I also had the temerity to try on a pair of blue and white striped strappy sky scraper high-heeled sandals- Syd came over and squealed (in the bad way) "Nononono" she chanted- "You KNOW they aren't corporate" . "I know, I said but they're so CUTE" I said pivoting on them and almost falling. She said "They look like 40's slut." Then she saw the look on my face and back pedalled- "Not a slut IN HER 40's, but a slut FROM the 1940's"! she smiled. Yeah Syd that sounds WAY better.

So the moral of this story is ALWAYS take a friend with you shoe shopping- no one can abuse you like those who love you.