Weekend wear

Today, for the first time in a long time, when I got dressed in the morning I put on something other than jeans.

Being what's known as a curvy girl (although apparently in online datingland that is a euphemism for overweight, so I can't call myself that in a profile), jeans and I don't get along well.  Companies have been trying for years to make jeans that satisfy my kind.  Levi's is the most recent to try to tackle this. Well, they tried a year ago.  Has anyone seen any news of it since? These efforts always fail.  

They're also not that comfortable.  Heavy, rough cotton?  I never, ever travel in jeans -- who wants to sit on an airplane for hours with those heavy seams pressing on you?

What am I to do on weekends, when I refuse to wear pants I'd have to dry clean?  Skirts and dresses end up being too dressy (unless it's really warm and liberated legs are appropriate).  And are not necessarily appropriate to wear when you want to put your feet up.  Khakis are just jeans of a different color.

I've been sick in bed all week, so when I haven't been casual and wearing jeans I'm wearing ... let's call it loungewear. While it's far more comfortable than denim, it's not particularly esteem-building.

But, today, partially in the spirit of hiddur mitzvah, beautifying the mitzvah, I put on nice pants because it's Shabbat.  And, because of these nice pants, which are fairly long and which I would trip over in flat shoes, for the first time in over week I put on shoes with higher heels.

And suddenly ... I felt better.  Healthier.  I felt like myself.

A while ago, I dated a guy who was a lot larger than me.  This was unusual because I tend to be drawn to the shorter types, guys I can see eye-to-eye with.

So he was unusual.  He was an Other.  And, since he was an Other, I was the other Other.  And in that affirming Otherness (oh, go read Hegel already) I suddenly found myself wanting to wear particularly feminine clothes, especially high heels.

I don't normally wear much of a heel because I have been inclined to wear comfortable shoes. I love to walk, either quickly or for long distances or both, which you can't do in heels. During the period when I was playing hockey, every Monday I needed to be nice to my sore body, so that was another day I didn't wear heels.  And my knees were always hurting, and heels made it worse. So there was no reason to own them.

Now, of course, we have the trend of platform heels.  I love it.  The illusion of high heels without having to work as hard.

It was liberating to try out this new side of myself.  Zappos, as always, was my best friend.  A better friend than the guy, of course, but I kept the red patent leather platform heels.  With them, I discovered that required hip-swinging motion that is apparently so alluring in women who wear heels.  It's a requirement because you have to use your whole body to generate momentum because the soles of your feet are not on the ground.  I also learned how not to fall down the stairs -- again, a hip-swinging motion in order to ensure the heel clears the step you're stepping off of.  Kind of like a flutter kick in swimming.

I still haven't worn them outside.  Really, who am I kidding: I have bought their value in Dr. Scholl's gel inserts and still can't walk more than a few feet on hard surfaces with them.

Since then, partly do to the exigencies of pants length, I've purchased more reasonable heels, heels I can walk in, heels that don't require me to think about walking.

I know heels for women have been compared to Chinese foot-binding.  Both create a triangular foot shape; both reduce the length of a footstep and cause our steps to be mincing, thus increasing our vulnerability.

But in that moment this morning, of putting on clothes that were more comfortable and draped better than weekend jeans, of putting on heels and standing tall, I definitely felt more like myself. Call me regressive, but I do like to stand tall when I can also walk well.  My legs are pretty long; my stride is not terribly shortened.

Perhaps I'll just start wearing heels with jeans.

Monday update: I put the red patent leather platform heels on with my jeans.  It's the worse of both worlds: uncomfortable and immobilizing.  The height is fabulous: I'm four inches taller, and I love the perspective.  But they represent exactly why I used to not wear heels: with my mincing steps I don't feel like myself; I don't feel pretty or grounded or mobile.  These may end up being my indoor shoes, dress-up play shoes, like house slippers only sexier.  Good for getting things off high shelves.

Fraud police strike again

(Is it jet lag if I am awake in the middle of the night at exactly the same time I'd be up in my own time zone?)

Looking at my email, as I do, and should not do, in the middle of the night, I see that Zappos is thanking me for my order.  However, I did not place an order for $398 worth of random fragrances.  (Tommy Bahama, Tommy Hilfiger, DKNY, Missoni, Carolina Herrera.  Not my style, although they aren't disastrous fragrances.)

Continuing to look at my email, I see all these fragrances weren't charged to me.  They were charged to an address in Kansas ... and shipped to "me" c/o someone else in Washington state.  I called Zappos, and they are canceling the order and taking it off my account.

Then, through the creepiness of the internet, I reverse looked up the billing address in Kansas to find who might have been defrauded to let them know of it.  I found a name and a phone number but no email address.  The name belongs to someone who is 97.

I just gave her a call, as it's afternoon in Kansas at the moment.  As would be someone of any age, she was very confused by my call.  She had never heard of Zappos and is not expecting to receive her credit card information in the mail for another 10 days.  I suggested she call her credit card company right away.  I feel bad -- I gave her my home number, and I explained that I am traveling ... but I won't be home for a week if she tries to reach me because she doesn't understand what I meant.  Maybe I will call her back tomorrow.

MTV shoes

On Sunday there was an article in the SF Chronicle about MBT shoes. Of course, now I am sitting here in a pair. Perhaps I should call this blog "Synthetic Footwear"?

The article made it seem like these are magic shoes. They firm your butt, tone your legs and abs, solve your back and knee problems, cause you to lose weight, give you good posture, and are incredibly comfortable in the process. So I went online, Zappos of course, and researched them for a long time, bought a pair. They didn't fit (these things run really small), so, at 4:30 PM on Monday I ordered another -- and they arrived on Tuesday. We love Zappos.

The reviews in Zappos were out of this world, and now I know why. They are sooooo comfortable. Teetering on them is really fun. And they're ugly as all getout: They've got these huge, weird soles -- it's a little like wearing platform shoes with squishy heels (hence the negative heel). Since they're rockered, you roll heel-toe really easily, which is how the good posture thing happens. Hey, this is California where you can wear anything you like. So maybe I'll wear them with a suit.

I have to be careful not to just roll to my toes and walk on them (really defeating their purpose). I'm a toe-walker. My mother used to express concern to the doctor, who expressed concern in turn, that I didn't walk normally, that something was wrong with me. Of course, when the doctor said, "Let me watch you walk across the floor," I walked with my whole foot they way they did. I passed the intelligence test.

My toe walking was a solo source of shame until I lived in Toronto and noticed my friend Emily walking on her toes. She told me it was a sign of genius. I knew I got something right with that intelligence test. Now I share Emily's diagnosis with all my friends with toe-walking kids.

Quick quiz: what were those initials again? MTB? A gasoline additive (really, MTBE). MVP? They're going to have to change the name.

... no, they've done something even smarter. They sponsored links that come up if you google MTB.

Hot fuzz is too warm

And you thought I was joking about spa slippers.

If you've ever been to a spa, you'll know that they dress you in a fluffy white robe and a pair of white one-size "scuff" slippers. Well named, because you have to sort of shuffle in them to keep them on -- which, if you have had a great spa treatment, is all your legs are able to do anyway. Just as hotels and spas now sell the white robes in order to capture the money they were losing from flat-out theft, spa slippers are now for sale.

I am delighted to find that neither my Google dictionary widget nor dictionary.com lists "spa slipper" as an entry. Therefore, I can stake my claim to providing the first definition ever, in the history of humanity.

A spa slipper, in its basic, Platonic glory:

• Is a flat slipper made of terry cloth or microfiber (to absorb water or lotions)
• Has a rubber bottom (so you won't slip if there's some water from the sauna on the floor)
• Is slip-on (so you don't have to ruin your manicure or use any more than the minimum number of muscles to get them on)
• Is snow white.

If you look at Nordstrom or Zappos, you'll see that the envelope has been massaged on this. Spa slippers now come in shapes that include thong, which does not seem like it would be spa comfortable; the color range has expanded to include pastel pink and blue. I can't wait for the moment when the fashion establishment decides that spa slippers that look like cotton candy are not calming but annoying.

But, hey, who doesn't want to walk around the apartment picking up kleenex in slippers that make you feel like you're in a spa?

Today you can find me at this other end of the sexy spectrum, not in tall leather boots with two-inch heels but in fuzzy square white spa slippers, just arrived from Zappos and Nordstrom. The genesis of this experiment was that I needed tights, and if I also purchased shoes from Nordstrom I would receive free shipping. Spend $40, save $5, who could resist? So after much research I bought white Acorn spa slippers.

I stuck with impractical, ultimately decadent white. I originally broke the rules: the slippers I bought are not for spas because they're like soft loafers and you have to use your finger to get your heels into them. And then I discovered something critically important: all that microfiber wrapped around your foot is really, really, really warm. That is not a cool cloud you're walking on.

So from Zappos today came my alternative, the white Acorn spa slide, which makes my foot look flat and square and fuzzy, and which is like walking on a cloud, plus my toes can breathe. They are like wearing angel shoes, so lovely, and I want to wear them all the time. Walking from living room to bedroom is not doing it for me. Interestingly, Acorn seems to lightly scent their slippers with a subtle, vague, inoffensive spalike smell. Intending to evoke that part of your memory associated with pampering.

A Proper Boot

So what is the proper fit for a boot? I just received my very first pair of dress boots from Zappos, having ordered them at 5:00 on Saturday night (so miraculous, as always), and I have no idea if they fit properly. They feel comfortable enough in the foot part; a little loose in the ankle; a little tight at the top. Most importantly, do they come up high enough on my leg?

I am extraordinarily late to the boot-wearing world because I thought this very expensive fashion would disappear quickly. I looked at people in lovely skirts and then boots that left a gap between the top of the boot and the bottom of the skirt and thought, "Knee high socks in seventh grade at girls' school." Personal experience. Alternatively, I thought, "Go-go dancer." Which, when I was six, I wanted to be, of course.

I think Lorelei Gilmore/Lauren Graham of "Gilmore Girls" convinced me that I should own boots. She always looked so good. Admittedly, she wore extroardinarily high spike heels: a suburban woman's Carrie Bradshaw. And if I decide to model my style after Lorelei, whose complete series is already in syndication on ABC Family, then I'm still dressing in the past. Then again, it would bring me much closer to the present than I am now.

So here I am in a lovely pair of boots, rather sexy, actually. But are they right? Has the six hours of online research (plus trying on my boss' boots right in her office) really finally paid off, and I can move on to obsessing about something else? Or should I buy a few more pairs and take advantage of Zappos' lovely perfect service?

Coming soon: spa slippers.