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The New “It” Shoe This Season

Oh, boy. Ready or not, gang, lace-up oxfords are back with a vengeance. I’m so mad because I had an adorable brown pair about twenty years ago and I should have just KEPT them.

Nine West is tempting my shoe lust with these recent styles:

lace-ups.jpg

So cute!

For Sarah, who wondered what kind of shoe might go with the classic Ann Taylor styles, how about these?

taupe-mary-jane.jpg

That’s a gorgeous taupe color for many women, and I’m sure you could find something similar in black. I love the low vamp and strap (much more elegant than the usual thick strap that tends to look either frumpy or too girlish), and if the heel is too high I’m sure you could find something similar at a better bargain and with a more sturdy heel.

And then there’s these for the boys!

Fleuvogs

So much cuter and more with-it than sloppy ole sneakers!

Also, by the same maker (Fluevogen):

These,
Fleuvogs
for the more rugged types and these,

Fleuvogs, which are just Cutey McCutester!

They’re unrealistically expensive but I love the sense of sturdiness, style and whimsy. They’d look great on a pastor wearing, say, a pair of great chinos, a classic sweater (nothing bulky) and a corduroy sports jacket. The shoes would be all about personality.

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Crocs Rant

A darling reader (literally: that’s her last name!) alerted me to this hilarious rant against Crocs from the Washington Post.com.

Here’s where Ms. Givhans really winds up and lets us have it:

“Did someone say comfortable? Because this is a culture quick to justify wearing virtually anything in the name of comfort — pajama bottoms as pants, sneakers as business footwear, leggings in lieu of trousers, Uggs with miniskirts — Crocs now rival flip-flops as the most annoyingly omnipresent style of summer footwear. City streets are inundated with shuffling phalanxes of men and women with bright orange, yellow and red Bozo feet.

The shoes can look cute on children. But all those adults walking around in Crocs, going on about how comfortable they are, look like overgrown children. They are like the workday Peter Pans who carry backpacks in the city. Not grown-up leather backpacks, but the kind made of nylon with water bottles stuck inside a web of bungee cords and a canister of Bear Be Gone hanging off the side. They have mistaken their walk to the office for a climb to the summit of the Grand Tetons.

Why, oh why, must people assimilate perfectly reasonable, functional and cheeky sports attire into street clothes? Why couldn’t they keep their Crocs on the boat or in the garden?”

Girl, I FEEL YOU!

The occasion for the rant? It seems that Prez Bush went out for a bike ride wearing Crocs and SOCKS.

Lord have mercy.

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Small Purses At Conference: It Can Be Done!

Bonjour, lovely people!

PeaceBang is quite tired this morning, having hit that point one hits at every conference where the cartoon bubble above her head is one big scribble– like the one Snoopy used to have when he was very confused or overwhelmed. PeaceBang calls this the Snoopy Scribble.

(Digression: I also just learned that my beloved high school music director is retiring next year and this news has my chest hurting as though someone shot a cannon ball at me and said, “CATCH!” Why would this news make me so unutterably sad? Arthur Sjogren has given decades of service to the New Canaan school system and deserves a wonderful retirement, which he shall have. I suppose this is just about Time Marching On and Crushing Us All Under Her Bierkenstocks As She Goes.)

ANYway, darlings, speaking of aging and such, PeaceBang has noticed that she isn’t as able to sling around fifty pound book bags as she used to, and has lately suffered the effects of loading herself up like a sherpa before and after class, not to mention schlepping an enormous purse at all other times. Her massage therapist, generally a gentle person, strernly admonished her to give herself a break from shoulder bags lest she wind up with real damage to her skeletal and muscular system.

As a result, PeaceBang is actually getting through General Assembly with a short-handled cotton purse that must be carried by hand rather than slung abut the body. She carries in it a cosmetics bag, small wallet, camera, small pad and pens, and hankie. She plots out her course for the day and leaves her big program in the hotel room.

This has been liberating in many ways, and also beneficial to PeaceBang’s physique in that she doesn’t end the day stretching out on the floor of the hotel groaning like one recently raised from the dead.

Also, the purse has a very high cuteness factor. Photo forthcoming.

In the interest of full disclosure of her own sartorial sins, PeaceBang confesses to her readers that three days spent in sandals with unforgiving straps and heels has led her to don Keenes for the day. Even worse, she was seen last night in 3″ wedge FLIP FLOPS. Darlings, it was that or suffer circulation problems that might lead to amputation. And PeaceBang likes her feet!

Be well, my friends! Kiss of peace from Portland!

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First The Crocs, Now These

You have to understand, my dear and compassionate readers, that PeaceBang has been feeling old and huge and sloggy lately. She has a rash on her chest that she thinks she got from testing a new tanning product, or possibly from wearing itchy African beads. Her face has broken out into a bizarre rosacea situation as a result of having her hair colored today. She is just one big bundle of kvetch.

This is what the cartoon bubble over my head said today,

“Oy, my back is still sore… why did I schlep all that recycling out last night…I should have left it until next week.. oh, but I’ll be at the Festival of Homiletics all next week… what am I going to WEAR? My hotel is a long walk from all the events and all my footwear is CUTE and IMPRACTICAL… and I can’t wear SNEAKERS… now that I’m PeaceBang I can’t just schlump in in any old thing… I have to be put-together… and oh Lord, I wonder if my summer stuff is even going to FIT…”

It was a banner self-esteem day, I tell ya. I stopped by the Andrew Zona studio on my way to picking up dinner (who can COOK when you’re kvetching?) and asked the advice of a lovely aesthetician named Lorna who told me, by the way, not to ice my flare-up. She also told me that I should keep my make-up brushes off the vanity table because dust can be a big irritant to super-sensitive skin. So I pass that on to you, pigeons.

ANYWAY, you must regard me with the heart of compassion and forgiveness when I tell you that after looking and looking and looking over a period of months for cute, professionally appropriate sandals that I can walk a mile or so in, I finally broke down and got these:dansko.jpg

They are frumpy. I know it. I accept it. And yet, on the scale of frumpiness they are pretty low, I’d say, and their comfort factor is so very high that it was worth the exchange to me. They look rather cute on. They are called “Lolita” by Dansko. Who are they kidding with that sexy name? Lolita who? Lolita Steinowitz of Boca Raton, maybe? Surely not THE Lolita of Nabakov’s novel?

So you can tease me if you want for totally going into Classic Frumpy Clergy Footwear. Bring on the sass. I can take it.

Because my feet won’t hurt while I’m at the Festival of Homiletics, and that’s all I care about right now. That, and Dove Mini-Dark Chocolate bars.