another shoe post: the old order changeth. Or not.

I recently disposed of an embarrassingly large number of pairs of shoes that no longer fit - either my feet or my life or both - and then picked up a few pairs of cute but comfortable things, since barefoot is not an option. It went like this:

First task: disposal. Many of the shoes were clearly garbage, so no problem. Out! However quite a few are still wearable, although they could be best described as "suitable for running errands on a rainy day when everyone you know is out of town." One pair of such is ample for me, and the rest were put into individual clear plastic bags, and pair by pair, quietly dropped into trash bins around town where they might be grabbed by some desperate soul who's having a bad winter. Kind of random, but thrift shops turn their noses up at this kind of stuff, so at least this way the shoes are no longer in my closet. Oh, and I took 2 pairs in to be repaired and "refreshed." I've had terrible luck with resoling, I find it expensive and the shoes never feel quite the same, but fixing heels and toe tips has worked for me.

This left me with a few pairs of "special occasion" shoes - ditched one, kept bronze metallic strappy sandals which go with just about everything, kept cute little wine-colored suede slingbacks with unsueded dots which are too cute to pitch right now but really only go with a few long skirts.

I remain astounded by how I can waste so much money and energy on shoes, and still want more. Just in case those glass slippers chip or crack while I'm waiting for the next gala, I kept my Chies.

I kept some Madewell buys from a few seasons ago (anyone else fall hard for the Sidewalk Wedge?), I kept a pair of Clergerie nude calf mid-heel pumps... I tossed 3 - yes, 3! - pairs of practically new J.Crew shoes, each pair worn once, each pair clutched in my hands while I rode back upstairs, barefoot, in the elevator. Hard to believe that my 4th grade teacher told my parents I was a "fast learner!" I didn't put the JCs in the streetside trash bin. Just because someone's down on their luck doesn't mean their feet should hurt, too.

I decided that future shoe purchases would be cold calculated decisions rooted in need, practicality, and comfort.

and then these happened along, reduced, plus another % off, and they met all my criteria. I ordered both colors, wanted to see which would be more practical. Sessun at Madewell. Comfortable, nice wedge, lovely suede, leather lined, beautifully made.  Baaad move, I've decided to keep both, since I now have room in the shoe closet. On the bright side, they feel like they'll last for years, and I treat dark green as a basic.

I foresee terrible times ahead.

I didn't even realize she was sketching me! (in which fred shops for shoes)

We all have our favorite "street" fashion bloggers, those who take snaps of people who are dressed well, or interestingly, or in a challenging manner. Garance, naturally, comes to mind, as does the Sartorialist, who not so long ago took a picture of my friend's 96-year-old great aunt. True. And if you don't follow Bill Cunningham's street fashion photos in the New York Times, you can arrange to do so on the web and it is well worth the effort.

Not so well known are those who stroll about with their sketch pads. There's much more room for interpretation in a sketch than there is in a photo, Instagram notwithstanding. Despite artistic license and interpretative flair, I have recognized myself or my outfits in a few sketches that have been called to my attention. As in the OMG that's got to be you! kind of attention. For example, right after I took possession of my famous "little" navy trenchcoat, a friend sent this. I think she detected the resemblance in the pleased smile, because I don't carry backpacks in real life.

from the New Yorker

This next was handed to me in response to a suggestion that my friend Bobbi and I drive up to Woodbury Common on a chilly day last fall. Woodbury Common looks like a little Alpine ski village, in winter and late fall when it gets dark early, it is surrounded by blue and blue-gray mountains, and you want to put your shopping bags down and have hot chocolate. Which you could, except there are always another 50 stores you haven't been through. There are four - four! - Ralph Lauren stores, Collection, Home, Other and -- I forget. Woodbury clouds the mind. There's an Etro outlet! There's an enormous Armani outlet! There are shoe stores. Oh, yes, there are shoe stores. And there are stores with shoes. And apparently there's someone with a sketch pad listening to the whines of a determined shopper who doesn't want to go home yet. With my gift for stating the obvious, the first time I was there in winter I pointed out to my friend that the place looked like a cute Swiss village, only with stores. She patiently replied, "No, it looks exactly like a Swiss village. What did you think people do in Switzerland? Ski?" Oh. Who knew. So that is how Bobbi thinks I shop for shoes.

This is how I like to think I shop for shoes.

This is probably more like how I shop for shoes in real life. My aunt loved shopping trips, and when she wearied, we'd head for a shoe store or shoe department. If we had to, we'd pick out a few shoes to try on, but it's a little-known fact that if you need to sit down and rest for ten or fifteen minutes, the shoe department of a major department store is the best place to do it. Ask for 2 or 3 pairs of shoes in different sizes, take your own shoes off your aching feet, and lean back. It's "better than twelve to seven" that you'll be undisturbed. This is a good tip for marauding your way through Woodbury Common when you need to sit down but have spiritual objections to being caught in a food court.

I know I make funny faces when I put on mascara, and I'm afraid to ask what my face looks like when I'm trying on shoes. Hasn't stopped me, though.

forward planning: umbrella karma, climate change, next fall/winter and the Brooks Brothers sale

Some days I feel surrounded by the voices of benevolent ghosts: things people told me loudly, murmured politely, whispered sadly, come back in the form of advice I give to others or to myself, strange moments when I suddenly know where I'm going to find what I'm seeking, tiny confidence-builders at indecisive moments, flashes when I suddenly know where I'm going to find what I'm seeking. Those last are particularly helpful in the case of, say, keys, or files I let someone else put away, and of course, museums. When a museum gets ready for a special "loaner" exhibition, or opens a new wing, old friends and sentimental favorites are often relocated to less prestigious quarters, and it's work to track them down. This is one reason I love the Frick Collection,and recommend it without reservation to visitors to New York. It doesn't change. It grows, it adapts, true, but it's too compact to get lost in. After all, it was once an exquisite private home.


Those old enemies, Cromwell and More, look balefully, if not at one another, then slyly towards one another. When they sat for Herr Holbein, did they know their afterlives would include the Frick Collection in New York City? and, more to the point, one another?


Before you leave, check that you've got everything you brought with you, grown-ups would advise Little Me. Nevertheless I've strolled through life like Hansel and Gretel, leaving behind me a trail of hats, gym clothes, single sneakers, umbrellas, gloves, boyfriends, wallets, sweaters, rings, pens, sunglasses... Driving out to Flintstone Manor once I arrived late, distraught and exhausted, the shortcut I usually take off the bridge having mysteriously vanished in a burst of energetic infrastructure maintenance. Note to self: all roads in Queens County do not lead "out." Many lead to dead ends or cul-de-sacs. Especially when I'm in a hurry.

I keep an umbrella stand by my front door and one day last year it was empty. No, I had not been entertaining kleptomaniacs, it had been raining for two weeks, and I'd left all five umbrellas in cabs and on buses.

Well, that won't happen again, I told myself as I bought still another clear plastic bubble umbrella, and resolved to look before exiting every single time. A few weeks later, I had a generous stock of beautiful designer umbrellas, all from cabs and buses, most grabbed in a hurry without looking as I got out, some pushed on me by drivers who didn't want to go to the trouble of a lost&found report. And all over town, I'm sure our umbrellas are being put to good use.

Sweaters and jackets - "Bring a sweater!"calls Mom. Well, the lightweight casual jacket that stayed on in Lyon without me last fall needs replacement, and here, not a moment too soon, is the Brooks Brothers sale, many goodies reduced as much as 60%. Brooks Brothers clothing has staying power.

I'm particularly fond of their linen slacks, and once in a while - only on sale - I treat myself to a pair of shoes. Some good-looking heeled loafers are on sale this year. I saw a jacket I really liked, except it was waxed. Not for town, then. I'll keep checking sales, though. If the summer's as hot as the spring has been, I won't need the jacket till next October, but of course then, weather or no weather, I'll only be able to find ski clothes and stuff suitable for tropical vacations. I hear my grandmother's voice when I look at the BB dresses: "If that's too "staid" for me, it's definitely not for you." I found my first gray hairs at fifteen, Nana blamed Mom's side, and after all these years of coloring, now I check every morning to see if I've gone bald yet. I once thought gray hair over a young(ish) face could be dramatic. No.
 Still liking that jacket, though, but if I get it I'll still need something lightweight. Goodness, I may have to go shopping. I actually had a dream a few years ago in which Nana told me where I'd find the pants for a jacket I'd grabbed on sale, and she was right.



As I look at my desperately bowed kitchen shelves, Mom's voice in my head goes on to ponder the mystery of the still young decade: how do all these people on Househunters International find contractors and workers in a foreign country, who not only show up but get the renovation and repairs done before the cameraman returns three months later? Without even speaking the language? And Pop's voice replies, "The secret ingredient is money."

Hmm, this time the secret ingredient may include putting the jacket replacement project on hold. I still have all those flowered shirts to return. Stay tuned.

fred sets off to shop!

I swam into town the night before last, leaving Himself out in Flintstone Manor to cope with the possibility of power failures and isolation. If the rains escalate while I'm in town shopping for hats and shoes , I trust that Himself will stay put. We have a gas stove (can be lit with match), candle-powered hurricane lanterns all around the house, and I always leave the can-opener OUT IN PLAIN VIEW BETWEEN TWO CANDLES WHERE I HOPE EVEN A MAN COULD FIND IT.

I hope he'll stay put if disaster strikes, because the roads that connect the South Fork of Long Island with the Rest of the World are world-famous for heavy traffic and lengthy back-ups; summer, rain, spot floods and thick ground fog only add to the charm. They are also festively decorated with signs that read "Hurricane Evacuation Route" or sometimes just "Evacuation Route."  And the county's official Hurricane Preparedness Guide suggests keeping your passport with you!

You'd need a passport only if you went in the other direction, that is, into the Atlantic and on to Portugal, so one wonders what they really expect. Clearly, from the available choice of roads, nothing good.  Enough about preparedness, except to say that I am always well stocked with unscented white pillar candles from Target. It's bad enough to be isolated and crazy worried about everybody you know and don't know. Ambiguous chemical floral aromas do nothing to improve the situation. I would rather return to find him sozzled and unwashed at home than apoplectic in a shelter with the car abandoned when he lost it.....

I want to buy a hat or two for the coming fall/winter season, and I have to start trying on shoes. This must happen as early as possible because cute hats that actually fit my Very Large Head are rare beasts indeed. One size fits all is not a true statement. One size fits most is equally non-inclusive. Take it from me, a shoe in a Medium width will need stuffing on me, and a size L or even L/XL hat - isn't. In the days when a Lady didn't leave home without a hat, how could one avoid being forever housebound? I put this to my Oldest Living Female Relative, who explained:

Women's hats once came in sizes based on the diameter of your head. If you had a large head, you would buy, oh, a 22 ½ or  22¾.

She continued:

In fact, most women's articles once were specifically sized. Shoes came in widths from AAAAA to D. You could also find shoes with a "combination last," for example, a shoe with a AA heel and a B rest of the shoe. Shirts came in real sizes, none of this S-M-L. Nylon stockings came in real sizes. Sweaters came in sizes 30 to 38. Socks came in numbered sizes, and you measured your sock size by wrapping the sock, heel to toe, around your fist. If it just met, that was your size. 

She went on, you wouldn't think such a sweet old bat could convey such ire.

Compare buying a woman's shirt in a size S with buying a man's shirt, where you need to know his collar size in ¼ inch increments and his sleeve length in ½ inch increments. Men's belts are also available in inches. Men's shoes are still made in a great choice of widths.

 Where, oh, where, can one find this degree of over-the-counter specificity in women's articles? OLFR blushingly replied, "Well, dear, one place is in the brassière department." This is true - cup and band. Anywhere else? More blushes: "Not at my age, dear, but I understand they are still considered fairly reliable protection."

I guess if the fit of what you wear is really, really important to the people who - in reality -  control the manufacture and marketing of women's articles, you can find it really well sized. And if your shoes pinch, take them off and lie down.

Um, I just thought of a product for men that is available in sizes from Gigantic to Unbelievable.