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 … )