The (Too) High Price of Fashion

Part 1: The Trip

I've relayed, several times in this blog, that I often feel wildly out of my comfort zones as I try to make something tangible out of the Fabulous Shoe Night concept, and, along the way, I've made mistakes. I try to think of those mistakes as learning curves, but sometimes they were just flat-out blunders … smack yourself in the head "Duh!" moments. God … I hate those. But they happen, and when they inevitably do, the only thing to do is pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and carry on … 

… while pretending that nothing actually happened … 

… hoping like hell that no one noticed.

One occasion when I had to literally pick myself up off the floor happened early this year … at a time when I was consciously trying to expand my comfort zones. I was invited to a luncheon in Philadelphia at the Bellevue Stafford Hotel, the grand dame of Broad Street, right near City Hall. I don't often drive into Philadelphia alone (Comfort Zone Expander #1), but I had a new SUV equipped with both OnStar and GPS, so how hard could it be, really? The luncheon fell on a day of monsoon-like weather; winds whipping around at 30 MPH gusts with sideways rain … not ideal driving weather (Comfort Zone Expander #2). And did I mention I was still shaken after my first fender bender with my new car just two days earlier (Comfort Zone Expander #3)? I … seemingly effortlessly! ... scraped the entire left rear panel of my SUV on my girlfriend's unyielding mailbox. Estimated damage to vehicle; $3000. Estimated damage to mailbox; $0.

While getting ready that morning, I gave myself plenty of time for weather delays. Lucky for me, I thought, as I slipped on my favorite Joan & David black patent leather pumps with the 4" heel, I can park right at the indoor garage at the Bellevue. What a convenience on a day like this!

I forgot that the Philadelphia Flower Show was in town, an annual week-long event bringing thousands of people to the city. You can see where this is going … right?

So, there I am, bravely soldiering on against sheets of rain and gale force winds, dodging huge rain puddles as I make my way down I-95, safely cocooned in my modern day tank, with the soothing, genteel voice of the GPS guiding my every turn. See … I knew I could do this. I find the Bellevue in record time. Actually, I have an entire hour to spare. Great, I think … I can go shoe shopping at the upscale shops at the Bellevue! I sigh contentedly. This is turning out to be a wonderful day. I never dreamed facing your comfort zones head-on could be this …well, easy!

I prepare to turn left into the parking garage when I see my first obstacle of the day: the red lighted "Lot Full" sign. Oooo … I wasn't counting on this. This is not good. That's okay! I think, cheerfully reminding myself that I am in comfort zone expansion mode … On to Plan B! I circle around City Hall in search of another indoor garage, only to be met with more "Lot Full" signs … for blocks. And blocks. Sigh. And blocks. The once soothing voice of the GPS is now telling me at increasingly annoying intervals to "Make a legal U-turn," … over and over. Irrationally, I answer, "I can't!! I CAN'T !!!"  … hoping this will somehow shut her up. It doesn't. She smugly admonishes me  repeatedly despite my whining pleas for her to just shut up. To silence her annoying, robotic smugness, I turn the GPS system completely off, knowing that now (deep, cleansing breath) I am truly on my own (Comfort Zone Expander #4). Yet I know I'm close to the hotel, so really … how hard can it be?

I drive in circles, growing panicky, as I search for an indoor lot. I'm also becoming annoyed … this has really cut in to my shopping time. I finally spot a garage with available parking and pull in, breathing a sigh of relief. The garage is a city high-rise, and I am literally growing dizzy as I circle up and up. I worry in my dizzying ascent that I may scrape the already battered side of the SUV on the narrow walls of the spiral lane, inwardly questioning my decision to buy one of the largest vehicles on the road. Floor L, Floor M, Floor N … yes! Finally! 

A huge, wide available spot that's perfect for my SUV on Floor O. I say a silent prayer of thanks and now can't help but feel a bit smug myself … I still have 40 minutes left to shop. I swiftly pull in, plenty of room on either side of me, when I hear it … that sickeningly familiar, stomach-dropping sound. The sound I had just heard two days earlier. A sound I was not ready to hear again … the long, drawn out, nightmare-inducing squeal of metal on metal … SCHREEEECH!! Palms sweating, I hold back tears as I back up … only to hear it again … SCHREEECH!!! The physiologic manifestations of sheer and utter panic rip through my body as I get out to find the source of that sound. I immediately see the culprit … horizontal overhead pipes hanging directly over my parking spot, with exposed bolts sticking out viciously like thorns. Was there a "Low Clearance" sign to be seen? No. Of course not. The pipes created deep gauges in the roof of my SUV, and actually moved the roof rack. In my panicked state, I didn't even think to take pictures with my iPhone … I just went in search of another parking spot, sobbing incoherently on the phone to my husband.

In the re-telling of this story many times since it happened, I was invariably asked, "Why didn't you just leave??" Sigh. Looking back … I'm not sure. I think I really was hell-bent on charging past some of the self-imposed restrictions of my comfort zones. Sometimes the act of busting out of your complacency takes nothing less than full audience participation. What good would running away do? No. I was there … I came all that way. Might as well go to the damn lunch. Panic makes me hungry anyway.

After finding what had to be the last remaining spot in the garage on the upper-most level, I brace myself to walk the 4 blocks to the Bellevue in the monsoon. I felt like Mary Poppins, arms outstretched overhead I desperately fought gusts of wind threatening to rip the umbrella out of my hands. Rain beat down on me, soaking my hair, face and clothes. At this point, I know I look a mess. And surely, my beautiful 4" Joan & David patent leather pumps will be ruined, but I fight the storm in search of one thing … shelter.

Finally, off in the distance, I see it like a beacon of light through the relentless wall of rain and wind I'm fighting … the warm, inviting lights, the muted opulence, the handsome doorman beckoning me, inviting me in. 

The entrance of the Bellevue.

(To be continued … )

Not a Good Fit

My beautiful 25 year old niece Madeleine was up from Florida for a visit recently. She shares my affinity for shoes (we're convinced it's genetic, as my maternal grandmother was also quite the shoe maven in her day), and, lucky for her, we're also the same size. What has become somewhat of a ritual of her visits is a trip to "Aunt Jen's Closet," … Madeleine's favorite place to "shop." It's actually mutually beneficial … she gets to go home with some fabulous new shoes, and I get the cathartic benefit of purging. (Actually, I think I get a double benefit … more room for new shoes!)

I watched Madeleine's reaction to her growing pile of loot with amusement. I must say … she made out quite well. A vintage pair of Frye boots that are amazing, but always hurt my feet too much to ever wear; a pair of strappy Cole Haan Nike Air sandals in a luscious nude suede, but I have more nude shoes than I'll ever need; rich garnet colored patent leather sling-backs in a retro 1940's look  … super-stylish, but easily the most uncomfortable pair of shoes I've ever owned; and a chocolate brown suede sandal with a 4" rope-covered wedge heel … spectacular, but just not worth the blisters they unfailingly produce. 

This latest "shopping expedition" has made me think about the concept of fit … and what makes a good fit, specifically. As any woman knows, that perfect, exquisite pair of pumps may feel great when we're walking around the shoe department, trying them on for size, but until you actually have them on your feet for several hours, you don't know just how they'll wear on your feet. And who among the ranks of shoe lovers doesn't have that perverse shrine in the back of their closet of one or two (and sometimes more) pairs of beautiful shoes that can only be admired from afar … because the band-aids required to get you through more than 20 minutes of wear simply ruins the overall aesthetic. 

After thinking about it, it became clear to me that some relationships can be a lot like ill-fitting shoes. That hard to deal with person you can only take in small doses; relationships fraught with tension; gossip lovers; people refusing to accept accountability for their actions; those who don't pull their weight, etc., are all examples of something that just doesn't fit in your life. Simply stated, friction creates blisters. Better to cheerfully pass such people along to someone who would be a better fit than to sport band-aids while waltzing through life in your Jimmy Choos. Life is waaay too short to deal with those who bring you down. After all, if we can't be comfortable in our own shoes … in our own skin … are we really being true to ourselves??

Fly-Fishing

Sometimes, you have to squeeze into your life what it is you love the most.

Being a stay-at-home Mom, my days are never the same, especially during the summer when my boys are home. As every mother knows, a house doesn't run itself … there are meals to be cooked, laundry done, children ferried here and there. Life, for everyone, is increasingly hectic. So I try to squeeze the creation and execution of Fabulous Shoe Night around my daily life … and around the busy lives and jobs of the advisory board. Between the varied tasks of raising three boys and running a household, I am  always thinking, thinking, thinking … my brain never seems to turn off. Getting FSN up and running so we can start helping people is never far from my mind. But as any mother knows, Mom-Brain has a way of kicking in when our brains are on overload, and despite our best intentions, things are forgotten. For me it happens more frequently than I care to admit. I always say, only half-kidding, "You'd be amazed at  just how much I'm capable of forgetting."  I'll be driving, or cooking, or in the middle of a million other things, barely aware of the ever-flowing river of ideas swirling just beneath the surface of conscious thought, when an idea will strike, seemingly out of nowhere. If I don't grab it, then and there, it gets swept up in the current … the rapid stream of thought of all the things I have yet to do, and rushes out of sight. Sigh.
Gone ….

During rare moments of quiet, if I still my mind, I can sometimes retrieve some of the ideas I thought swam away for good. I compare it to that fishing game for little kids, where a jumble of fish "swim" around an imaginary pond, and, if you time it just right, you can lower your rod and catch a moving fish with a magnet in place of a hook. I have "caught" a lot of ideas this way, in stillness and concentration, despite their elusive slipperiness.

As I try to squeeze in as much FSN work as I can among the small in-between spaces of such hectic busy-ness, I am thankful that these elusive ideas swimming in and out of my stream of consciousness are not actual fish, for more often than not, they need to be put on the proverbial shelf until the advisory board can get together to brainstorm. When this happens, I am reminded of Benjamin Franklin, who wisely said, " Fish and house guests smell after three days."  And as any busy mother knows, to prevent that from happening, I would have no choice but to fry them up for dinner. 

After all … I have three hungry boys to feed.

Stayin' Alive ... I Mean, Awake

I met with an attorney last week to discuss some of the emerging legal intricacies Fabulous Shoe Night has presented. By the end of our 90+ minutes together, I felt like my head had been put through a sausage maker. While I was on LSD. And Nyquil. At one point, I noticed my hands hurt, and looked down at them to figure out why.  I realized I was clutching the edges of the table, my knuckles white from pressure and exertion. It became clear to me that I was gripping the table in an effort to stay present, mentally.  To pay attention to something I didn't understand most of, and not tune out like I usually do when someone is discussing what I consider to be the mundane. I need to know, and understand, what is going on, yet I feel I am at a huge disadvantage. I am not a lawyer, nor did I go to business school. It is not a good feeling to realize that you understand approximately half of what someone is saying to you. Not a good feeling at all …

To make matters worse, I went home, and my (attorney) husband asked how the meeting went. I relayed all I could, which was not much. Clearly, the two lawyers will need to exchange emails or phone calls to bring him up to date. In the past, this was the point where I would mentally check out, and let someone else handle all the "boring stuff." It's so much easier to stay safely in the confines of your comfort zones … but this time, I vow not to. Pushing beyond self-imposed comfort zones is a little something we all need to experience, and it's called growth. It's not easy, it's not comfortable, and it is usually downright scary, but if we are ever to move forward …  in business, in life … it needs to be done.

So … it's time to put my (reading) glasses on, sharpen my pencil, hunker down and get to work … push past my comfort zones and learn something new, different, scary and, to me … boring. As I struggle to stay present and learn all this new, scary and boring stuff, I think of that famous quote about Ginger Rogers, doing everything Fred Astaire did, but backward … and in high heels. And then I think of the reaction some people have when they look down at my latest pair of fabulous, sky-high heels. Invariably, they ask,  "How on earth do you walk in those things??" My answer is always the same. Always. I smile, and say, "With attitude."