Shoes

There’s a type, yes, I’m veering into at dangerous area of “types” here, of black man who absolutely defines dapper. You know who I’m talking about. He’s got the swagger, the pants that fall just to the top of his shoes, the jacket that may or may not be worn depending on the weather. That nice sleek belt. And the shoes. He’s got the shoes. They’ve got a long toe, perhaps some sort of eelskin, cream flecked with black and grey. He’s sitting at the free jazz festival, by himself, just listening to those beautiful tones rolling out of that horn. Or at least, that’s where I’ve seen him.

Well, I want to be him. Actually, I am. Kind of. Except for the fact that I’m East Asian, racially speaking. And a woman. But my shoes. They always, always inspire admiration. Awe. And a little bit of envy. Not necessarily in that order, either. I’ve heard it said more than once, “I’d look great in those shoes!” To which I answer, “But honey, I already look great in them, why would I lend them to you?”

 

Of course, what they’re really saying is they wish they had my shoes. To which my response is, “Well, of course you wish you did, but you neither have the taste nor the eye, so you never would have purchased them even if you had been staring straight at them.”

You see, I possess a combination of taste, the ability to find bargains to boot, and an eye, not just for what a shoe is, but what it can be. On me, obviously, but not just that. I mean if it’s not quite the right color, I can do something about it. How, you ask? Well, once, I bought a pair of BIS Charles Jourdan shoes at a Ross Dress for Less store, of all places, because no one had any idea what they were. Except me, of course. They are this beautiful square-toed ankle boot of diamond-quilted patent leather in a burgundy color. Unfortunately, I didn’t want them in burgundy, I wanted them in black. So I used leather dye and dyed them. The process took upwards of two hours, but after? I had a pair of boots that, back in the early 90’s, had my girlfriends drooling. 

A friend once told me that it was not normal to buy any type of clothing that are not exactly what one wants, whether they be too large, not the right color, or not “quite” the right style. That said, she is never dressed as well as I. You see, it is the eye. For what is possible, not what is, that makes my wardrobe, especially my shoe wardrobe, so unique. 

The other quality necessary? The ability to browse using creative search terms. Now I shop for shoes almost exclusively online. But I don’t just go to any large warehouse site and gaze at their suggestions. No. A much more refined approach is required. 

Let us say I am looking for a pair of flats. This is actually a true story of how I discovered my one-of-a-kind pointy-toed, gold, crinkled foil-effect Moschinos that inspire equal amounts of appreciation and desire by all who see me wearing them. First, I looked at the Saks and Barney’s sites to see which brands they were carrying. No, not the mid-range brands, I mean the high-end brands. I did not, however, look at the style of flats they were carrying. A woman with style does not follow trends, she looks for what is unique, pairs those elements together with her own clothes and creates her style. 

Of the brands I examined, I decided that I was appreciating Moschino’s designs most. I then began a combination of search tasks: looking at different discount websites that I know carry one-offs, samples, or past seasons, of high-end shoes, as well as putting in a search term for Moschino flats through various search engines. After about two hours of digging around various sites, I found these gorgeous flats that now I am the proud owner of for, mark this, only $75. They are a tad large, at size 7.5, but I also have bunions. And a friend of mine once told me that she avoided shoe problems by buying shoes that were a half a size too big, putting an insert into them, and once the day came to a close and her feet had swelled, she would remove the insert and voila! The shoe was still comfortable. 

Now, that handy parable, for that is the way I took it, informed me that I could buy a shoe that was half a size too large and still wear it. And I do. With, of course, an insert which actually makes them more comfortable. Plus, they don’t pinch, which for a pointy-toed flat, is a definite hazard.

These shoes make people, strangers all, stop me and comment: “I love your shoes! Where did you get them?” 

On another site that often has one-offs and samples, I acquired a pair of strappy Emporio Armani black suede sandals during a sample sale that literally make women go breathless with longing. True, it can be a little creepy, but on the other hand, I enjoy the affirmation. Plus, I have a really attractive pair of feet. Not too bony. Young looking, because I’ve put cream and socks on them every night before bed since I was 18. My feet make any shoes look great.

Oh, that reminds me…There. Now, what was I saying? Ahh, yes, that my feet adorn any shoe well. But it isn’t just that. It’s the eye for style combined with price. Anyone can dress well if they have the money, though surprisingly many who do possess lots of it also embody that adage that there is simply no accounting for [the lack of] taste. What? It’s not an adage? Well, it should be because there are so many celebrities and just run-of-the-mill rich people commit visual crimes on a daily basis. I mean, it’s like they just want to add to the optical detritus out there. 

Anyway, one of my many skills is that I know how to look stylish for every occasion. As far as my shoes are concerned, it makes people assume I’ve spent hundreds, if not thousands, on them. It is distinctly possible that at one point, all of my shoes were indeed that price but I never pay more than one-third of the original price. Ever. 

Therein lies my talent and also what separates me from everyone else I know. Given my eye, my shoes never look out of season, let alone out of style. They become “timeless,” simultaneously evoking a classic while appearing eminently modern and timely. Even better, I can look like I’ve spent thousands on my stylish wardrobe and make even the wealthy doyennes envious.

It is indeed a gift. I freely admit I enjoy it immensely. 

Another time, I was browsing a site that was having a sale and filtered for my size and for boots, which I confess along with strappy sandals are a particular weakness. I just happened upon a pair of high-heeled red suede Robert Clergerie boots for $95, which though size 7, were said to run big. Perfect. After all, with high heeled boots, one definitely wants to have a little extra room. It was a moment of true triumph. These boots  are so stunning that they have made little girls speechless. Of course, it’s the way I wear them, too. I pair them with these red, jodhpur-style leggings and a double-breasted brown velvet jacket. One seven-year old on the way to a Whole Foods actually stopped me and said, “Wow! I love your…boots!” She was so impressed she actually stuttered momentarily. And while I have an authentic pair of 80’s Nocona cowboy boots, I do not wear those with my jodhpurs because that would be too much. They look much better with a pair of bootcut jeans with just the pointed, upturned toe peeking out from underneath. 

You see? It’s about combining looks, old and new, in a way that is unique. So even though the painted-on jeans is au courant, I will still pull out my bootcut jeans for my cowboy boots. 

The other key element is to have in mind a particular “look” that a shoe will complement. Of course, there are shoe styles that I simply adore. So, for example, I will seek out the riding boot with lacing at the vamp. I love ghillies. I also swoon over oxfords. However, they have to be a refined interpretation of each. Too high of a heel is always the death knell of either a fleeting fad (how is that for repetition?) or a cheap design. The same is true of a toe that is overly emphasized. Subtlety is key since all the elements of the shoe must work in concert to produce a gestalt of style. 

And retro styles in particular must be finely wrought so that they do not simply reproduce the past. Their interpretation requires a nod to the present, as well. 

My nod to the sixties. A beautiful pair of gold, crinkle-foil effect Hogan boots with a smooth gold square cap-toe that is festooned with a round button. Evidently they were part of the runway collection a few years ago. Meaning they’re at least three years old. And yet everyone who has seen them sings out “Twiggy!” or belts the famous chorus of Nancy Sinatra’s single, “These boots are made for walking,” to me. I usually smile and edge away carefully.

I like to pair them with mini-skirts, not just because I have great legs, but also because it highlights the boots themselves. Perhaps a scarf wrapped twice around my neck, as well. In such an outfit, I particularly enjoy entering shops where the salespeople make an art of scorning customers whom they believe are too poor to afford their wares. That would, in truth, be me. But I wear these and suddenly I’ve got the men and women approaching me with their compliments and their business cards, just in case I might need something. 

Good thing I recycle.