I’m helping Zelia make a photo book for her mother’s upcoming 90th birthday. For someone whose first language is not English, she comes up with a great descriptor for my role in developing this book; she calls me her Memories Manager. I like that. So this morning she stops over and we sort through about 200 digital photos of her mom, going back to 1920. She must be a remarkable woman. I mean how many women still wear a bikini at age 87, and more importantly, look good in it?
Zelia leaves around two. I grab a handful or two of grapes for lunch and leave my apartment. I need a pair of black shoes that I can walk in and that look good. Not an easy combination. I have plenty of black shoes that fit one of the two criteria but none that fit both.
I go over to Harry’s, a popular store on the Westside that specializes more in comfortable shoes than fashionable ones. But surprisingly, I find three pairs I like, all in my size: a black wedge by Robert Clergerie in a stretch fabric, a black wedge by Dana Davis in the same fabric, and a luxuriously soft leather wedge by some Italiian designer I’ve never heard of. None are perfect, but all are close. I think the Clergerie make my feet and ankles look fat. The Dana Davis look better on my feet but aren’t as comfortable. And the Italian ones are the highest, the sexiest, and the least comfortable. I look to the salesgirl for advice, as I've exhausted the opinions of the store's customers. And this is what she says. Really. “I don’t think you need to worry about what’s on your feet. Your have the most perfect shape. Thin with no stomach. Trust me, no one will be looking at your shoes.”
I end up end up buying these Dana Davis shoes.
It’s a sunny, cool New York day. Street vendors are everywhere. It’s the start of the weekend. A stranger just complimented me. And she didn't compare me to a previous version. Life is good.
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