But I wore them today! And they sure are looking good.
 |
| Who knows, maybe someday we can recreate this photo, but in reverse... |
Showing posts with label shoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shoes. Show all posts
7.05.2016
Boots to Fill
You know I love my oxblood boots. And yet, I haven't worn them since my maternity session back in October (one of these days I'll post some images from that). The reason for that is sort of ridiculous- after the session, I left them in my car... and there they've stayed until today. At first it was because I was pregnant and couldn't really wear them. And then I was no-longer-pregnant, but I was... distracted...
But I wore them today! And they sure are looking good.
But I wore them today! And they sure are looking good.
2.28.2016
Ruby Slippers Galore
I've already shared the roots of my love affair with oxblood footwear. Today I shall share the story of my most recent acquisition:
First of all, I didn't have any plans to go shopping today. My plans were to take Neeps to visit my Katie, and then come home. But as I was driving back across the bridge the thought occurred to me that a) I do need new work shoes and b) the afternoon is the best time to go shopping for new shoes and c) I'd already gone through the trouble and effort of packing Neeps into his car seat and d) there was a good shoe store between me and home.
And so I took an early exit, found miraculously close parking, and swaggered in as best I could whilst awkwardly lugging a car-seat-full-of-robust-infant. This less-than-impressive arrival was greeted with a polite smile from the salesman, along with the ubiquitous, "May I help you with anything today?"
"Yep!" I announced. "I'm here for new work shoes so my boss can stop cringing!"
This led into a discussion about what I normally wear, shoe-wise;
"Doc Martens and hiking shoes," I said, sticking out a foot so he could see my Merrells. "Oh, those are great shoes," he said, to which I replied, "I know: this is my second pair. I think the last they use for this model happens to correspond with my foot."
what I do for a living;
"I'm an office manager for a brokerage company," I explained. He smiled and said, "Yes, I can see why your boss might be appreciative of a... change in footwear." I gave him a cheeky grin in return, "Yeah: I'm damn good at my job, so he's always given me leeway, but I thought it would make him happy if I upped my professional style a bit."
and my personal preferences;
"I won't do heels," I said flatly. (sorry) This did not appear to concern him: "Okay, we actually have a lot of options for that- maybe some ballet flats, or-" I interrupted with, "And they need to stay on my feet while I bike to work," at which point he just sort of laughed. I joined in and added, "I know, I know: I'm a challenge."
He had me sit so he could measure my foot.
"You have very strong feet," he remarked, and I preened a bit at that, because of all my (many) vanities, I am The Most Vain about my feet and ankles. Hells yeah, rock climbing and hiking FTW.
"Okay, I have a few ideas," he began thoughtfully, but I cut in with, "I happen to love oxblood, if that helps," and you'd have thought I'd told him the Holidays had come early. His face lit up, and he said, "I think I have just the thing, then!"
He disappeared into the back, and came back perhaps 90 seconds later with two boxes. He opened the first.
"Nice," I said, eyeing the burgundy loafer. He helped me put them on, and I stomped about and checked myself out in the mirror. "They're so cute and comfy. I really like these!" I said. And I did. (I still do. I may go back.)
"And they'll keep your feet protected from the rain while you bike," he pointed out. I nodded appreciatively, and took my seat once more.
"I also thought these might do," he said, and opened the second box.
"Ooo," was my visceral-girlie response: the shoes put me in mind of tulips, and I could see how perfect they'd be with both pants and skirts. Clever man.
I tried them on, and immediately realized that these felt even better on my feet: no slippage. I said as much, and he nodded.
"I'm not surprised to hear you say that; this brand is known for fitting high arches like yours. Plus you strike me as an artistic person, and the cut on those shoes really lets you play with fun socks."
I grinned at him. "Good call: I love fun socks." I sat back down and asked, "How much will these run me?"
He told me, and I nodded. Not cheap, but totally reasonable for what I was getting. "Let's do this."
And that is how, thanks to incredible customer service from someone who really knows his business, I was in and out of a shoe store with a brand new pair of ruby slippers, in less than thirty minutes. Damned if I don't love professionals.
(and oxblood)
 |
| Feel free to chuckle whilst imagining the awkward angle I held my phone at to get this shot. |
First of all, I didn't have any plans to go shopping today. My plans were to take Neeps to visit my Katie, and then come home. But as I was driving back across the bridge the thought occurred to me that a) I do need new work shoes and b) the afternoon is the best time to go shopping for new shoes and c) I'd already gone through the trouble and effort of packing Neeps into his car seat and d) there was a good shoe store between me and home.
And so I took an early exit, found miraculously close parking, and swaggered in as best I could whilst awkwardly lugging a car-seat-full-of-robust-infant. This less-than-impressive arrival was greeted with a polite smile from the salesman, along with the ubiquitous, "May I help you with anything today?"
"Yep!" I announced. "I'm here for new work shoes so my boss can stop cringing!"
This led into a discussion about what I normally wear, shoe-wise;
"Doc Martens and hiking shoes," I said, sticking out a foot so he could see my Merrells. "Oh, those are great shoes," he said, to which I replied, "I know: this is my second pair. I think the last they use for this model happens to correspond with my foot."
what I do for a living;
"I'm an office manager for a brokerage company," I explained. He smiled and said, "Yes, I can see why your boss might be appreciative of a... change in footwear." I gave him a cheeky grin in return, "Yeah: I'm damn good at my job, so he's always given me leeway, but I thought it would make him happy if I upped my professional style a bit."
and my personal preferences;
"I won't do heels," I said flatly. (sorry) This did not appear to concern him: "Okay, we actually have a lot of options for that- maybe some ballet flats, or-" I interrupted with, "And they need to stay on my feet while I bike to work," at which point he just sort of laughed. I joined in and added, "I know, I know: I'm a challenge."
He had me sit so he could measure my foot.
"You have very strong feet," he remarked, and I preened a bit at that, because of all my (many) vanities, I am The Most Vain about my feet and ankles. Hells yeah, rock climbing and hiking FTW.
"Okay, I have a few ideas," he began thoughtfully, but I cut in with, "I happen to love oxblood, if that helps," and you'd have thought I'd told him the Holidays had come early. His face lit up, and he said, "I think I have just the thing, then!"
He disappeared into the back, and came back perhaps 90 seconds later with two boxes. He opened the first.
"Nice," I said, eyeing the burgundy loafer. He helped me put them on, and I stomped about and checked myself out in the mirror. "They're so cute and comfy. I really like these!" I said. And I did. (I still do. I may go back.)
"And they'll keep your feet protected from the rain while you bike," he pointed out. I nodded appreciatively, and took my seat once more.
"I also thought these might do," he said, and opened the second box.
"Ooo," was my visceral-girlie response: the shoes put me in mind of tulips, and I could see how perfect they'd be with both pants and skirts. Clever man.
I tried them on, and immediately realized that these felt even better on my feet: no slippage. I said as much, and he nodded.
"I'm not surprised to hear you say that; this brand is known for fitting high arches like yours. Plus you strike me as an artistic person, and the cut on those shoes really lets you play with fun socks."
I grinned at him. "Good call: I love fun socks." I sat back down and asked, "How much will these run me?"
He told me, and I nodded. Not cheap, but totally reasonable for what I was getting. "Let's do this."
And that is how, thanks to incredible customer service from someone who really knows his business, I was in and out of a shoe store with a brand new pair of ruby slippers, in less than thirty minutes. Damned if I don't love professionals.
(and oxblood)
11.03.2014
9.30.2014
8.02.2014
Off With the Old, On With the New
Got myself a new pair of climbing shoes, and I can't wait to try them out! As much as I love the performance of my Miura VSs, the last they're formed on just doesn't quite work with my feet, so I thought I'd try something new. I put on a pair of Anasazi LVs and they were sooooo comfy that I was immediately sold. I can't wait to try them out! Oh wait I said that already! Because I'm that excited!
 |
| They're a less aggressive shoe, which means I'll have to climb better, but that's alright: I want to climb better. |
7.31.2014
Walk a Mile in My Shadow
My Katie is getting married in less than two months, and the dress I'm wearing to that is even sharper than the dress I wore to Bridge's wedding back in May (although my boobs are not so impressive now, but oh well). As such, I got had to get a pair of correspondingly sharp shoes:
...and I had to get them well in advance, because shoes like these require practice when a doc-marten-wearing-girl like me decides to don them.
 |
| no choice in the matter, really |
...and I had to get them well in advance, because shoes like these require practice when a doc-marten-wearing-girl like me decides to don them.
7.19.2014
Elemental Stars
So this is how they turned out:
(I'll do a full process entry about them later this week)
 |
| water and fire |
(I'll do a full process entry about them later this week)
6.26.2014
Blank Canvas
This evening I went over to a friend's house, with the express purpose of drinking wine and painting shoes:
We did in fact drink wine (along with dinner), and I did in fact paint one shoe, although the other remains blank. We'll still count it as Mission Accomplished, however. I need to paint the other one, obviously, and then go over both of them with permanent marker to lay in line-work and shading. I'll probably do a process blog once they're both finished.
It was really nice to sit in a shared creative space and get my (slightly inebriated) art on. It took me back to a good place, a college-type place. Makes me want to do it more often.
 |
| These shoes, specifically. |
We did in fact drink wine (along with dinner), and I did in fact paint one shoe, although the other remains blank. We'll still count it as Mission Accomplished, however. I need to paint the other one, obviously, and then go over both of them with permanent marker to lay in line-work and shading. I'll probably do a process blog once they're both finished.
It was really nice to sit in a shared creative space and get my (slightly inebriated) art on. It took me back to a good place, a college-type place. Makes me want to do it more often.
5.02.2014
4.17.2014
Houseguests
We have family in town once more, and it's so lovely.
 |
| ...can you tell we're an outdoorsy family? |
4.02.2014
12.21.2010
Lovely Things
Some of you might possibly be familiar with my red Dr. Martens.
More specifically, you might have noticed my love affair with said boots.
It all started back in autumn of 2003... the year I decided to be Punk Rock Dorothy for Halloween (yes there are pictures: no they will not be posted). I chose that costume specifically to justify buying a pair of red (oxblood or cherry, depending on whom you ask) docs. They put me back about a hundred dollars- no small change for a recent college grad. But I got them in the mail and I put them on and they were so gorgeous I knew they were worth every penny... just as they were worth the subsequent months of sheer bloody (literally) misery it took to break the damn things in. But break them in I did, until they were so comfortable the blisters became a gentle, half-remembered nightmare. And you can ask anyone I've dated or lived with since then- I take care of my boots. I'm not quite military-level-obsessed with it, but I do enjoy polishing them, caring for them. Which is how, seven years after the initial semi-impulse of a purchase, they are still a beautiful (and practical) staple in my wardrobe. Audrey Hepburn had the little black dress: I have the supple red boots.
Over the years I have looked at other Dr. Martens- I do enjoy the aesthetic of the brand, after all, not to mention their sturdy construction- and occasionally dreamed of getting another pair. But I never went through with it, for various reasons. First of all, when it comes right down to it, I'm a bit of a miser when it comes to buying myself impractical stuff. Second of all... well, actually, that pretty much sums it up. Sure, docs last forever, but I already had a pair- and they were living up to their long-lived reputation. There was no way I needed another pair, and I just couldn't justify spending that kind of money on something just because I wanted it, when I already had it... or a version of it, anyway... am I making any sense at all here? In a thrifty way?
And then a friend of mine pointed these out to me. And oh, how I lusted.
See, the thing is, my boots? Are distinctly masculine. This makes sense, seeing as how they're men's boots. I like it- I tend to have a fairly distinct masculine streak, myself, and I certainly have never let it stop me from wearing my boots with skirts and dresses... but a part of me saw the feminine detailings on those Manor Alettas and just... purred.
So appropriate for work, I thought to myself, so subtly subversive. Perhaps I shall allow myself to daydream of these boots...
And I did. But I did not, gentle readers, actually purchase them...
Which brings us to today, and the early exchange of Christmas presents with my husband. My darling, wonderful husband, who is also a photographer. Behold:
Boooooooots!
Are they not lovely? Here, have a shot that gives them a better angle:
As you might have guessed, Nathan and I decided to take the opportunity to use his new lighting set-up (Christmas gift from his parents) to try and get a few more "product"y-type shots. You know, the kind where the focus is on the merchandise for sale rather than the model's... assets? (Did I just call myself a hooker? Maybe? Don't think about that- look at this photo!)
(I definitely look concerned that I might be a hooker...)
This is probably my favorite, in terms of what we set out to accomplish:
Can't you just see that in a magazine? With a hand-scrawled "Dr. Martens" across the top? With a catchy little phrase like, "always appropriate" or some such nonsense... anyway it was fun! And as a bonus, here is a picture that shows me with ::gasp:: cellulite!
Yup, little dimples there on the back of the thigh. So I'm here to tell you, ladies (and dudes)- if my highly muscular and sexy legs are showing dimples, then dimples are just a part of life and nothing to fret over so screw those air-brushed alarmist magazines!
Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go polish some boots...
More specifically, you might have noticed my love affair with said boots.
It all started back in autumn of 2003... the year I decided to be Punk Rock Dorothy for Halloween (yes there are pictures: no they will not be posted). I chose that costume specifically to justify buying a pair of red (oxblood or cherry, depending on whom you ask) docs. They put me back about a hundred dollars- no small change for a recent college grad. But I got them in the mail and I put them on and they were so gorgeous I knew they were worth every penny... just as they were worth the subsequent months of sheer bloody (literally) misery it took to break the damn things in. But break them in I did, until they were so comfortable the blisters became a gentle, half-remembered nightmare. And you can ask anyone I've dated or lived with since then- I take care of my boots. I'm not quite military-level-obsessed with it, but I do enjoy polishing them, caring for them. Which is how, seven years after the initial semi-impulse of a purchase, they are still a beautiful (and practical) staple in my wardrobe. Audrey Hepburn had the little black dress: I have the supple red boots.
Over the years I have looked at other Dr. Martens- I do enjoy the aesthetic of the brand, after all, not to mention their sturdy construction- and occasionally dreamed of getting another pair. But I never went through with it, for various reasons. First of all, when it comes right down to it, I'm a bit of a miser when it comes to buying myself impractical stuff. Second of all... well, actually, that pretty much sums it up. Sure, docs last forever, but I already had a pair- and they were living up to their long-lived reputation. There was no way I needed another pair, and I just couldn't justify spending that kind of money on something just because I wanted it, when I already had it... or a version of it, anyway... am I making any sense at all here? In a thrifty way?
And then a friend of mine pointed these out to me. And oh, how I lusted.
See, the thing is, my boots? Are distinctly masculine. This makes sense, seeing as how they're men's boots. I like it- I tend to have a fairly distinct masculine streak, myself, and I certainly have never let it stop me from wearing my boots with skirts and dresses... but a part of me saw the feminine detailings on those Manor Alettas and just... purred.
So appropriate for work, I thought to myself, so subtly subversive. Perhaps I shall allow myself to daydream of these boots...
And I did. But I did not, gentle readers, actually purchase them...
Which brings us to today, and the early exchange of Christmas presents with my husband. My darling, wonderful husband, who is also a photographer. Behold:
Boooooooots!Are they not lovely? Here, have a shot that gives them a better angle:
As you might have guessed, Nathan and I decided to take the opportunity to use his new lighting set-up (Christmas gift from his parents) to try and get a few more "product"y-type shots. You know, the kind where the focus is on the merchandise for sale rather than the model's... assets? (Did I just call myself a hooker? Maybe? Don't think about that- look at this photo!)
(I definitely look concerned that I might be a hooker...)This is probably my favorite, in terms of what we set out to accomplish:
Can't you just see that in a magazine? With a hand-scrawled "Dr. Martens" across the top? With a catchy little phrase like, "always appropriate" or some such nonsense... anyway it was fun! And as a bonus, here is a picture that shows me with ::gasp:: cellulite!
Yup, little dimples there on the back of the thigh. So I'm here to tell you, ladies (and dudes)- if my highly muscular and sexy legs are showing dimples, then dimples are just a part of life and nothing to fret over so screw those air-brushed alarmist magazines!
Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go polish some boots...
9.19.2010
Disconnect
We are reaching That Point in the conversation.
You know what I'm talking about, right? When you've gone through all the "here's what happened this week" highlights, and neither of you really has anything left to say, but be damned if you'll hang up? Damned if you'll admit you don't have hours worth of conversation between you, because you always used to, damn it. Or maybe you didn't- maybe it's just you're more aware of silence when you're holding a phone instead of a hand.
I lay back on the small brick wall that defines the boundry of my front porch, rest my heels high above my head on the corner column. My eyes wander from the fraying edges of my canvas shoes over to my neighbor's little harvest display, searching for a topic.
"You know what I like best about pumpkins?" Yeah, that's right- I just brought squash into it. But she's game.
"Their color?" Her voice sounds faded to me. I wonder if she's tired, if she's stressed, if she's more lonely than she's letting on and if she's eating right- or if it's just the connection.
"Well I do like their color," I admit. "All vivid like that one coat you always wear when it gets really cold,"
"That coat is red." Her voice holds the barest hint of an accusation, and I roll my eyes, dig one heel into the brick.
"I know that coat is red- I said it was vivid like the pumpkins, not the same shade." As if I could ever forget the color of that coat. As if I could ever forget any nuance of the image that makes up her.
"Oh. Sorry."
"Anyway it's not their color that I like the best. It's their stems." I can almost hear her narrowing her eyes on the other end. It's such a perfect mental picture that the corner of my lip tugs up. She does skepticism so well.
"...their stems?"
"Yep." The truth is I've never given much thought to pumpkins. But hey- it's what I've got right now, and as I reveal to her my Secret Love of Pumpkin Attributes, I find that it's actually true. So she's still teaching me things about myself, even from thousands of miles away. "I like that they look painted on."
"Okay, you've lost me."
"Pumpkin stems. They look like a fanciful brush-stroke added at the end of a painting, don't you think? A sort of flourish? You can see the texture of the bristles and everything." A warm breeze kicks up and brings with it the scent of the bleached grass in the yard. It makes me wonder how cold it is at her new place.
"You are by far the weirdest boy I know," but I can hear her smiling as she imagines some impressionist going around, brush heavy with paint, swirling on stems.
"I can't believe you've never noticed it. I'm totally sending you a pumpkin so you can see what I'm talking about."
"You do that. I want some candy corn, too."
"What, they don't have candy corn up there?"
"Probably- they probably have pumpkins, too. But stuff from the South is sweeter, you know?"
"I am so not taking that bait."
"Spoilsport."
(Temperature Disconnect)
You know what I'm talking about, right? When you've gone through all the "here's what happened this week" highlights, and neither of you really has anything left to say, but be damned if you'll hang up? Damned if you'll admit you don't have hours worth of conversation between you, because you always used to, damn it. Or maybe you didn't- maybe it's just you're more aware of silence when you're holding a phone instead of a hand.
I lay back on the small brick wall that defines the boundry of my front porch, rest my heels high above my head on the corner column. My eyes wander from the fraying edges of my canvas shoes over to my neighbor's little harvest display, searching for a topic.
"You know what I like best about pumpkins?" Yeah, that's right- I just brought squash into it. But she's game.
"Their color?" Her voice sounds faded to me. I wonder if she's tired, if she's stressed, if she's more lonely than she's letting on and if she's eating right- or if it's just the connection.
"Well I do like their color," I admit. "All vivid like that one coat you always wear when it gets really cold,"
"That coat is red." Her voice holds the barest hint of an accusation, and I roll my eyes, dig one heel into the brick.
"I know that coat is red- I said it was vivid like the pumpkins, not the same shade." As if I could ever forget the color of that coat. As if I could ever forget any nuance of the image that makes up her.
"Oh. Sorry."
"Anyway it's not their color that I like the best. It's their stems." I can almost hear her narrowing her eyes on the other end. It's such a perfect mental picture that the corner of my lip tugs up. She does skepticism so well.
"...their stems?"
"Yep." The truth is I've never given much thought to pumpkins. But hey- it's what I've got right now, and as I reveal to her my Secret Love of Pumpkin Attributes, I find that it's actually true. So she's still teaching me things about myself, even from thousands of miles away. "I like that they look painted on."
"Okay, you've lost me."
"Pumpkin stems. They look like a fanciful brush-stroke added at the end of a painting, don't you think? A sort of flourish? You can see the texture of the bristles and everything." A warm breeze kicks up and brings with it the scent of the bleached grass in the yard. It makes me wonder how cold it is at her new place.
"You are by far the weirdest boy I know," but I can hear her smiling as she imagines some impressionist going around, brush heavy with paint, swirling on stems.
"I can't believe you've never noticed it. I'm totally sending you a pumpkin so you can see what I'm talking about."
"You do that. I want some candy corn, too."
"What, they don't have candy corn up there?"
"Probably- they probably have pumpkins, too. But stuff from the South is sweeter, you know?"
"I am so not taking that bait."
"Spoilsport."
(Temperature Disconnect)
6.11.2010
She's Got Legs
Let me just say that Hans got it all wrong. He was a bit of a romantic, that man- tragic romance, yes, but romance nonetheless. So when he retold my story he had to turn it into a love story, had to make it a quest for a soul.
But honey, it was really just a quest for a killer pair of shoes. And, of course, the ability to wear them.
There are many wonderful things about being a daughter of the sea king- a mermaid, as he dubbed me. Many wonderful things, indeed. Your hair always- and I mean always- looks good. You have more pearls than most people could even dream of. And the amount of swimming the lifestyle necessitates means that your body is totally good enough to pull off the topless look my people favor. All in all, not a bad deal. But the thing is you have a tail- and while that tail is just fantastic for propelling you through the water, it just sucks for accessorizing. Fins, not feet. Fins. And do you know what kind of shoes fit on fins?
Neither do I. Because they don't exist. Trust me.
I might have gone my entire life not even knowing what was missing, if my older sisters hadn't been in the habit of scavenging ship-wrecks. They brought me along one day, and I noticed that they kept discarding what were, to me, beautiful pieces of art. When I asked them why they told me they were useless- things called shoes that land-dweller females wore on their feet. Of course I knew what feet were- sea birds have feet, after all- but I had a hard time picturing them on mortal women. You must understand that the only glimpses I'd had of the creatures they were wearing long gowns, each and every one of them- I guess I'd had the impression that they were rather bell-shaped below the waist. But when I saw those beautiful little shoes, I knew I had to find a way to wear them- no matter the cost.
(She's Got Legs)
But honey, it was really just a quest for a killer pair of shoes. And, of course, the ability to wear them.
There are many wonderful things about being a daughter of the sea king- a mermaid, as he dubbed me. Many wonderful things, indeed. Your hair always- and I mean always- looks good. You have more pearls than most people could even dream of. And the amount of swimming the lifestyle necessitates means that your body is totally good enough to pull off the topless look my people favor. All in all, not a bad deal. But the thing is you have a tail- and while that tail is just fantastic for propelling you through the water, it just sucks for accessorizing. Fins, not feet. Fins. And do you know what kind of shoes fit on fins?
Neither do I. Because they don't exist. Trust me.
I might have gone my entire life not even knowing what was missing, if my older sisters hadn't been in the habit of scavenging ship-wrecks. They brought me along one day, and I noticed that they kept discarding what were, to me, beautiful pieces of art. When I asked them why they told me they were useless- things called shoes that land-dweller females wore on their feet. Of course I knew what feet were- sea birds have feet, after all- but I had a hard time picturing them on mortal women. You must understand that the only glimpses I'd had of the creatures they were wearing long gowns, each and every one of them- I guess I'd had the impression that they were rather bell-shaped below the waist. But when I saw those beautiful little shoes, I knew I had to find a way to wear them- no matter the cost.
(She's Got Legs)
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