If the Shoe Fits …

Today we welcome Kelli Stanley, author of the much-anticipated new mystery CITY OF DRAGONS (Feb 09, Thomas Dunne/St. Martin's). Kelli made her mark with NOX DORMIENDA, which won the Bruce Alexander Memorial Historical Mystery Award. Kelli is a supporter and friend to many local mystery, thriller and romance authors and we're delighted to have her here!






So today I’m here to talk about shoes. And Pens Fatales, you wonderful writers—thanks for having me over to dish! ☺

First, know that I adore shoes. Well-made Spanish or Italian leather pumps with wood frames get my heart racing. When I was very young and lived in Italy—not too far from the Florence market—I used to ogle the shoes in the window, and try to bargain for the ones that I loved the most.

I still own a few … gorgeous green leather, matching bags. Ah, the ‘80s … I guess they’re vintage now, but hell—then so am I. ;)

The trouble is that I can’t wear ‘em. High heels are insanely uncomfortable! I grew up on a farm and my feet became accustomed to more practical kinds of footwear, the kind you need to hike and walk and feed livestock in. So while my mind may drool over espadrilles or back-strap sandals, my feet yearn for the comfortable.

There are a couple of designers I really like—Josef Seibel is one--who can produce very Euro style shoes that won’t make your feet scream. When I’m out and about on book tour—which I am right now—I tend to favor these shoes—German styling and craftsmanship, but comfortable enough to handle two bookstore events in a single day.

I also love boots. Hey, remember I was young in the ‘80s, so I’ve never lost my attachment for ankle boots. And let’s face it … boots just give you an edge. They’re Diana Rigg, they’re Honor Blackman, they’re a leather power trip all unto themselves. Boots are the ultimate sexy footwear, in my opinion …

Speaking of sexy footwear, I enjoyed the shoe research I had to do for CITY OF DRAGONS. I even purchased some shoes from the ‘40s, so I could get an idea of how they were made, what they felt like. Those specifics didn’t make it into the book—though relative prices did—and Miranda, my protagonist, definitely has an eye for footwear … and a shoe store plays an important role in the plot.

Back in 1940 San Francisco, pumps were the main evening shoe in the winter, but sandals and wedge heels were popular during the summer. Miranda’s “working” clothes—when she’s working the clubs in search of philandering men on behalf of their wives—need to be the ultimate in fashion, yet long-lasting and practical, too.

And of course, there were no “comfort” shoes then, and people generally walked more. Miranda’s leg muscles are very strong—another plot point. Walking up and down Mason Street—where her apartment is—every day in heels will do that. ☺

But Miranda’s “real” shoe—you know, the shoe we wear not on our feet but in our minds, like my green Italian pumps—is quite different. While her pumps are femme fatale, it’s her identity as a detective that is the most important thing to her.
Femme fatale on the outside, she’s complex and tough and hardboiled and vulnerable and scarred on the inside. And she’s determined and driven to make a difference.

So yeah … her favorite shoe is a gumshoe. Because that’s what she is.

And it’s my favorite shoe, too. ☺

Thanks again for having me over, ladies—it’s been a blast!

My Soul Has a Rubber Sole

I want it all.

Yes, I mean I want shoes that are both cute and comfortable.

I have 12 pairs of shoes. I love each one of them. Keeping me from having an overflowing closet is the fact that I only buy shoes when they meet both of my demands.

It's tough. It requires patience. But it's worth it. And from my various attempts over the years to find the perfect shoes for imperfect feet (mine are overly long and narrow), I've learned a few lessons.

Lesson 1: Always buy rubber soled shoes.

Really, life's too short to bother with painful shoes.

I learned this lesson by the time I got to college. It was especially easy to achieve back then, since I had hippy tendencies and pretty much lived in my Birkenstocks (while playing Indigo Girls songs on my acoustic guitar, of course).

After visiting Edinburgh back when painting pictures on Doc Martens was all the rage, I decided to paint my paint-friendly rubber soled shoes: my Docs and my Converse. I hadn't yet discovered the existence of comfortable high heels, so I could at least have some fun with my shoes through art.

Aside: It's surprisingly difficult to find photos of shoes in old photos--for some reason photographers focus on faces and neglect the shoes, even when they are fabulous cherry Docs with a gargoyle painted on the side of them. But I still have my Converse with the head of a dragon I painted on the side.

Lesson 2: John Fluevog understands.

I didn't wear heels until pretty recently. I really wanted to, because at 5 foot 9, when I put on 3 inch heels I end up 6 feet tall, which is just so cool. But with my desire for comfort and challenge of having long and narrow feet, it was always difficult to find heels comfortable enough that I'd bother to wear them.

Nine West used to have a line called Could Nine with rubber soled high heels, but they discontinued the line in favor of more stylish, yet much less comfortable, shoes. Grr. With that change, out went my foray into the land of high heels--until I moved to San Francisco and made a wonderful discovery.

The Operetta line of Fluevog shoes proves that it is possible to make stylish shoes with comfort in mind. Oh, how I love these shoes. Pictured here are my burgundy operetta boots (above left), and black operetta mary janes (top right).

Lesson 3: eBay is your friend.

Even though John Fluevog understands how to make the perfect cute and comfortable shoe, he doesn't make his shoes with those of us who have day jobs at nonprofits in mind. After finding my size at the store, I wait for their twice-yearly sale or check the listings on eBay (the burgundy boots came from the former, and the mary janes from the latter).

Lesson 4: Color should not be feared.

It's true that it's not always easy to buy bright purple boots when there are sleek black ones next to them. But I've never regretted a single one of my colorful purchases.

If you've gotta have rain boots--which turned out to be quite necessary this winter--at least they can be fun.

But I always make sure those colorful shoes have rubber soles.

--Gigi

Martha Breaks Down A Basic Shoe Wardrobe

Some of you are shoe experts. Read no further. The rest of you are delicate shoe caterpillars waiting for someone to cocoon you in guidance so you can emerge killer shoe butterflies.

But fashion magazines are confusing and conflicting. Finances are strained. Choices are many. Where to invest? In a moderate climate, here's the order in which you should invest in shoes:

1. A sensible pair of athletic shoes should always be your first priority. Why? Because your health is important and also because there could be a natural disaster, and you'd need to walk your ass somewhere safe. (Note - these are not apocalypse friendly shoes - apocalypse shoes are a whole nutha level best left to another post.)



2. Work friendly shoes for whatever it is you do. For me, that's biz friendly attire which means sensible pumps. I recommend round toe (the days of foot-binding are over, people) and stacked mid-length heels in black and one other neutral color to match with the greatest variety of pant hems, fabrics, and skirts. Details like straps and buckles can add to your personal style if need be.

(The Taryn Rose brand is definitely an investment piece, but the shoes are designed by a foot doctor and I swear you can walk in them for days and not get moody and chew out someone at a board meeting thus keeping you employed and able to buy more shoes.)

3. Boots. I like Frye's cowgirl style in black and wear them with EVERYTHING because this is the shoe that's "me" but if you're the sexy type then this is the place to go for a pointy toe or stiletto heel because the extra support of the boot will make the style more comfortable.

4. Flats. One ballet style with a kitten heel and one regular flat with a decorate feature like rouche detail or a floret. One in black, the other in a different neutral. Again, great for short hemmed jeans or work pants and adorable with skirts and dresses.


5. Stunner shoes. I'm a fan of stacked heel and a t-strap. Classic shoes like heeled pumps and d'orsays seem more biz friendly to me so I save stunner shoes for the shoe that no one else is wearing but that still has something classic about it so it'll last from season to season and could, if need be, act as a backup work shoe.

6. Summer shoes. You're going to beat the crap out of these so feel free to cheap it up. One pair of flat thong sandals and a summer sandal like a wedge. If you keep the wedge neutral then it also might work for biz wear on warm days, but do something cute with the thong sandals because there's no need to be uber neutral when you're sipping pina coladas on a beach.


So there! Go forth! Spend with confidence!

Shoes: A Love Affair

Shoes: A Love Affair

Shoes in this author photo are stiletto heel, BCBG ankle boots with a chrome buckle




Shoes are a complicated subject. I have a weakness for shoes. All kinds. Sexy shoes with high heels and bits of ribbon and curlicues, comfortable shoes ergonomically designed, chunky-heeled boots, shell-decorated thongs, beaded mules, sleek suede pumps, peek-a-boo cut-outs in black patent, even my slippers are adorned with rows of fake jewels. But before you judge...my love affair with shoes was born of a desperate time in a young girl’s life.

When I was in fifth or sixth grade (I’m really not sure, I’ve pretty much blocked out this painful period in my life) I had to get corrective shoes. My arches were falling or my feet were flat or scoliosis was big back then, I don’t remember, but some such dire thing required me to wear corrective shoes. And yes, as you properly surmised, corrective shoes were ugly. One style. Lace up. You could choose your color--in either dirt brown or dock worker black. I got the brown ones. Seriously, seriously ugly shoes. And I didn’t have a choice.

I had to wear those hideous shoes for several years. Along about the same time, I got glasses because my eye sight was failing and braces because my teeth were crooked. You couldn’t get much more pathetic than me with glasses, braces and corrective shoes. At this formative period in my young life, things were NOT GOOD.

So fast forward to a few years later and teeth were fixed, contacts installed and that’s when my love affair with pretty and colorful shoes began.




In high school, it was all about my black and white saddle-backs with my pom-pom uniform, the fake wood heels and soft brown leather upper clogs with my pencil-legged Gloria Vanderbilt cords, high-heeled Candie’s in the hot color of the season.

Then in college came the boots. Purple leather flat boots with the button on the side. Red leather flat boots with a small heel. If I had a brown pair, they hid in the back of my closet. For comfort, black canvas high tops, Converse tennies, and roman gladiator sandals.

When work came along, I was in shoe heaven. I wore funky suits almost every day and had the matching pumps to prove it. Hot pink, electric blue, metallic bronze all in a stiletto heel.

Nowadays, I stick more to comfort. But if you peek in my closet, you’ll still see a rainbow of colors and heel heights. I scour shoe sales and clearance racks so it’s a cheap affair. Give me a choice between a new pair of shoes and a new pair of jeans and the shoes will win every time.


Because I’m in love.

Lisa

How Lovely Art Thou, Damned Cruel Shoes

L.G.C. Smith

Like every other aspect of material culture, the shoes we choose, wear and keep for decades after we last wore them say something about what matters to us. Or the state of our feet, which is more of an issue for some of us than others.

Here's the thing: I have problem feet. They hurt. A lot. Often. This is a family trait from my mom's side. When I was a kid, as soon as the morning wake-up call sounded, all of us responded with a chorus of "ow, ow, ow, ow, ow" as our poor little feet hit the floor.

We didn't know it then, but we have a loose ligament disorder. My brother has pectus excavatum, which presents as a big dent in the middle of his chest where the ligaments failed to hold his rib cage in the proper position. All of us are pretty bendy. Including our feet and ankles, which, sadly, bodes ill for being able to take more than two steps in high heels. Heck, my sibs and I can fall off tennis shoes on a flat surface.

Added to this, my foot is wide across the toes and narrow in the heel with a really high arch. Very few shoes fit well, and the ones that do tend toward utilitarian at best. My sisters use the word 'ugly.' I haven't been able to wear heels for two and half decades. I keep a pair of high heeled boots I bought and wore three times in 1979. I adored them. They crippled me. Yet I've kept them all these years. Why? So I can look at them every couple of years, and remind myself of what might have been if I'd had stronger feet.

Blisters. How many thousands of them have I had over the years? I always had them as a kid. I can get them in thirty seconds from the wrong shoe. When I realized most people didn't have them all the time, I grew resentful. It's so not fair.


I love boots. Can I wear them? Rarely. I have gargantuan calves, and not just because I'm fat. Then beneath my monster calves I have narrow, weak ankles. Bad combo, I have to tell you. But I keep trying boots. I have a pair of ancient cowboy boots that I wore a lot when I lived in South Dakota. When I still worked at universities, I fantasized about having custom boots made. I even found a place that could do it. But I made do with ankle boots, which, while nice enough, aren't the same as ones that go all the way to the knee (no comment on the over-the-knee boots one sees lately; oh, maybe one comment -- trashy). It's hard to justify custom footwear in a middle-class life with a career that allows pajamas as acceptable work attire.

On top of all the physiological failings of my feet, I've had many bouts of plantar fasciitis. Most of my attempts to develop a regular exercise program (cross-country ski machine, treadmill, even regular walking) end up in long months of excruciating pain and recovery. Now I have exercises that help a lot, but the miseries of PF have left a lasting impression on my shoe wardrobe.

The result of all these foot woes is a boring collection of sensible shoes with wide toe boxes and good arch support. Clarks and New Balance are my cobblers of choice. I will never spend hundreds of dollars on a juicy pair of Jimmy Choos. Stacy and Clinton would kick me off "What Not to Wear" in less time than it takes me to trip in a pair of low-heeled pumps.

I love cute shoes. Elegant shoes. Stratospheric heels. Strappy little sandals. Boots of all sorts. All kinds of shoes. Alas, they don't love me. So for this life, I'm resigned to being happy if my shoes don't look too nasty and I can actually walk in them. Sometimes it's all about scaling down expectations.

With Great Shoes Comes Great Responsibility

Welcome guest blogger Daisy James!

Daisy James is a Californian writer, biotech researcher and shoe enthusiast. Her blog, Half the Fun, is largely concerned with travel, shoes, odd food products, hairstyles and, occasionally, killer robot dinosaurs. Her most recent fiction publication, “The Ghost in the Death Trap” was Episode 224 of Escape Pod.

One time, she stopped shopping for four months and the entire economy collapsed. She still feels kind of bad about that.


I’ll just come right out and say it: I have a ridiculous number of shoes. No one who has seen my closet*, or my credit card statements, could possibly dispute that. I spent an entire month posting pictures of shoes on my blog (Shoetember!), and had enough left over to do the same for every Tuesday since (Shoesday!). And I will say, if I may be immodest for a moment**, that I have amassed a fairly impressive collection.

Why? That’s a good question. The easy answer is that they are fun, but you already knew that and anyway, that isn’t really an answer at all— it’s like saying you climb mountains because they’re there. (I mean, of course they’re there. Where else would they be?) The cynical answer is that it’s all feminine competition, an attempt to claim alpha female status by a show of wealth, and like most cynical answers that’s probably at least partly true. The real answer could probably form the basis of a graduate thesis in the sort of field where it’s impossible to get a job, so I’ll leave that for others to do, and go back to trying to explain the “fun” thing.

My first brush with the power of shoes came in high school, with a pair of green Converse Chuck Taylor All-Star high tops. It was the early nineties, the height of the grunge era, and the All-Star was the shoe of choice for anyone who didn’t have the nerve or the ready cash for Doc Martens. I was (prepare to be shocked) something of a dork and an outsider, but somehow, when I wore those green Converse, in defiance of the laws of physics and nature, I was cool***.

Years passed, and I packed away my plaid shirts and beat-up jeans to the land of teenage trends, but the lesson of the All-Stars endured. Shoes were a way to fit in and, done right, they could be a way to stand out too. The shoes you wear can transform you****, from how your legs look, to how (or if) your outfit works, to what other people think of you. And if they’re thinking bitter thoughts of jealousy because you so clearly have style, class, and a pair of four inch, crocodile skin de la Renta heels, well then, all the better.

Hey, the title just says you have great responsibility. Doesn’t mean you have to use it well.

Please don’t misunderstand me; I by no means am trying to say that you have to spend a third of your disposable income on footwear to be complete as a person. I happen to have a very good friend who owns exactly one pair of dress shoes, and despite that is still able to live a full and happy life. And I hardly need to say that just being expensive does not automatically make something fabulous. (Exhibit A) But if you do happen to enjoy a fine pair of heels, or own sneakers that make your heart sing, or know that you are never hotter than when you’ve got your boots on, well, come sit over by me. And then tell the class about them in the comments, won’t you?


*We recently moved, to a place that is infinitely better in almost every way than our old apartment, but the one thing I really miss is the shoe closet. A whole closet, just for my shoes! (This may not have been its original intended purpose.)

**No? Whoops. Oh well, too late.

***At least in my own mind. Which, as I would come to learn later in life, was actually what mattered.

****For example, if you wear Crocs, they transform you into an escaped mental patient— not the exciting, dangerous kind, the kind that shuffles around and asks people if they’ve seen Jerry.

--Daisy

Chuck & Cindy

--Adrienne 

I never wanted to be a princess. I’d rather be Queen, thank you very much. I mean, as long as you’re dreaming, why mess around in the minors when you can go straight to the  big league, right?

But there was always a single exception. Cinderella. 

From the gory Grimm to the Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo Disney, I Love Cinderella. That’s right capital “L” love. I’m not messing around here, people. What’s not to love? Kindness beats cruelty. Love wins the day.  And, for once in a fairy tale, the girl gets to be the hero. Nobody saves Cindy. Cindy’s got everything she needs to save herself--courage, friends and love.

And one hell of a calling card.


 Her glass slipper. 

A shoe so uniquely hers that proves her identity. 

I always wanted one...Ok, maybe not a real one. For starters, I never really learned to walk in heels. Add to that the stress of literally walking on glass, and I’d be a wreck. But a metaphorical glass slipper, a shoe that told the world who I really am, that I can handle.

I’ve come close. Look at these lovelies.

I Love Converse. (There’s that capital “L” again.) All canvas and rubber soles. In a world of designer high heels, I’m a Chuck Taylor girl. There’s nothing I can’t do in my Cons--do the laundry, meet my fairy godmother, go on a date with my very own Prince Charming. Hell, one day I might even wear them to the ball.

Juliet thinks guys have it easy when it comes to shoes...but grrls have more fun

I don't mean to whine. I really don't. I detest whiners.

But this schlepping carry-on bags onto airplanes really blooooows. Where the heck am I supposed to pack my shoes?

Like Rachael, I'm not a huge shoes fetishist. Imelda Marcos found no sympathetic ear at my house. But when I'm off to a conference, or a long weekend in New York, or even just on a visit to see my parents, shoes become an issue. Packing shoes, more specifically. It becomes a major feat of engineering and coordination, since shoes have a whole lot to do with the rest of the wardrobe.

And what makes this much worse is that I've noticed men do not have this issue.

Guys: go to a conference and get away with a decent pair of shoes on the plane, and every day and night thereafter. If they get fancy they might bring along a pair of sneakers or running shoes.

Me:
1) Comfy, easy to slip on-and-off pair for the plane and airport security.

2) A pair of decent looking shoes that can be worn with nice conference clothes but that won't leave you crippled at the end of the day.

3) that same or similar pair in light colors for light stuff, dark colors for dark stuff. And maybe a red, but a bright lipstick red that only goes with one outfit... but it really makes the outfit.

4) A pair of fabulous looking shoes that might just leave you crippled for cocktail parties, dinners out, when you need to impress someone, etc.







5) Summer? sexy sandals. And if you come from Oakland, boots are a must.





6) Pair of sports shoes for the hotel fitness center that you swore you would go to every day but almost never do.



Don't even get me started on open-toed or closed, and therefore what kind of nylons a person needs, and thigh-high vs. panty hose and how many extra pairs. Or bras, for that matter.

When it comes to packing, womanhood kind of blows. On the other hand, men have to wear the same old shoes all the time. They don't get to constantly change their personality, based on their footwear.

So I guess, ultimately, it's more fun walking in my shoes.

Rachael's Shoes Have Personality

Shoes. Oy.

This is a hard one for me. I like shoes. They're nice. They keep my feet warm and safe, and I like cute ones as much as the next girl.

But I'm one of those who can have five pairs of shoes for five years and not feel like I'm lacking. One pair of tennies for the beach with the dogs, one pair of running shoes for running, one pair for work, pretty Danskos for most other occasions, and black heels for going out. Oh, and my Croc slippers for at home. (Don't laugh! They're awful and ugly and the best things ever.)

I guess I just don't get it -- it's right up there with shopping for me. I hate the mall. I don't like to shop. I don't like to spend money on things like shoes when I have serviceable shoes already.

Serviceable. That's the operative word. Oh, how BORING. But my shoes usually have stories. My red Danskos were bought with my first real writing check. The beach tennies I have on right now (that I put on to walk the dogs earlier) were passed on to me from a friend who bought them on a rainy day in Venice -- her feet were wet, and I'd convinced her to pack light, only one pair of shoes. She'd listened to me, and she was miserable, so she bought this blue pair of knock-off Keds with a fake Nike swoosh. At the end of the trip, she didn't like them, and they fit me, so she passed them on. Ten years or so later, I still wear them. They have a stripe of yellow paint where I stepped on a paint roller while painting the bathroom of the first place I owned. They're beat to hell, and I love them.

I guess it comes down to this: I only like shoes with stories. With character. And if you have too many shoes, how can they have personality?

*I do, actually, own more than 5 pairs of shoes. Maybe 10. But I only wear about six regularly. Shameful, I know. Someday, perhaps, I'll expand my horizons. But for now, I'm happy with what I have.