So it's the February that won't end. But it's April, you say? Yes, that's pretty much my point. It's cold and snow is flurrying just beyond our central-Indiana windows as I write this.
Indeed, it's a perfect day to talk about summer shoes. I'd rather be walking in them, but since that isn't likely to happen until, oh, about August, the way things are going, let's at least talk about sandals.
Believe it or not, I'm not a shoe person. When it comes to feet coverings for fall, winter and early spring, my shoe wardrobe includes one brown pair, one black pair, one pair of sneakers and some boots. The irony is that I have no odd sizing issues, wearing either a 7.5 or an 8 M. There are tons of shoes to choose from on the market and I don't like any of them.
But sandals? The shoe's on the other foot. For one thing, my feet love summer. They particularly like thick, spongy flip flops and open air all around. Most of these models tend to come with bling on top, which I could do without, but I'll take them for their comfort and ease of wear. Even though the spongy ones are my comfort zone, my favorite personal pair of sandals are the black patent-leathers in the upper left-hand corner.
When I was a small girl, I had a pair of bright green patent leather sandals. I loved those shoes! Patent leather isn't the easiest shoe to find for an adult, but these remind me, somehow, of those shoes. Plus, they are amazingly comfortable. More so than a sneaker. I am not a sneaker person.
I like the red shoes. They make me feel stylish, but the color is limiting in what I can pair with them. The ones that get the most wear for church and work are the two neutral-toned pairs, platform-cork numbers that are pretty comfortable and make me feel of normal rather than short of stature.
The black ones, lower middle, are in a bit of a rough state. These will likely be my yard shoes this summer. They're comfortable but well-used.
My least favorite among the summer roster are the coppery-tone ones with the beads in the upper right-hand corner. I've had them two or three years -- maybe longer -- and I think I paid more for them than for any in the group. They aren't particularly comfortable. But they are well-made and I will probably still have them around a decade from now.
I put the sandals together for a photo not originally for this blog post. In fact, the photo inspired the blog post. The idea is to photograph the abundance of my summer shoe inventory so I'm not seduced by shoes I spot and don't need. This way I can call up the phone photo in the midst of temptation.
How about you? Are you a fan of summer sandals? Is an inventory of nine an obscene number? How many summer shoes are in your closet?
I didn’t set out to collect leaf pins. I suppose that’s how all collections begin. You start with one, and as soon as another is added, boom, you have a collection.
I tend to wear pins anyway as my jewelry of choice with a preference for the big, grandma brooches of old. Maybe that’s because I spent a fair share of childhood time rummaging through my mother’s and grandmother’s jewelry boxes admiring the sparkles and shine of their costume jewelry.
One of the most elegantly dressed (and beautiful) women of my childhood was my eighth-grade history teacher, Joan Kratzer. If you knew her, you will likely recall the gold, circle pin she wore daily. I once asked her about it and she said it was her signature fashion statement.
My first leaf pin was a resident of mom’s jewelry box. It’s the gold-hued one with the tiny pearl. It came from a neighbor’s Sarah Coventry Jewelry party in the 1960s. Who remembers those? And whatever happened to Sarah? Oh, I’m sure I could have my answer with a Google search and probably find other pins like this one online. When I think of that pin, I think of mom wearing it on a scarf.
The red, leaf one came from a second-hand clothing store in New Castle, if memory serves. Of my leaf pins, I think it’s my favorite. It seems to go well on jean jackets and black sweaters, both of which I’m partial.
The silver leaf is another pre-worn find, and it probably cost a buck or two.
I have a pair of tiny leaf “scatter pins.” The scatter pin isn’t something trending right now and that makes me even more of a fan. The leaves are very thin and have beautiful shimmers. I think there was a third in this trio that I gifted to my nature-loving friend Cheryl. They came as a set but where, I don't recall other than from a consignment store somewhere.
I also have a wreath-styled bronze pin of autumn leaves. I’m a big fan of wreaths as well as pins so when I saw this one in a thrift store, I snagged it. Yesterday it fell off in the middle of a parking lot with a lot of traffic around. I’m glad I heard it hit the ground or it would have been gone forever.
I don’t know why, but I never wear these cuties at any time of the year except for fall. Even though I should wear them year-round, I doubt that I ever will. It’s kind of fun to have some seasonal pieces to save and enjoy during, well, leaf season.
How about you? Do you have any fall collections?
When I was a little girl growing up in the 1960s, society was much more formal, even in rural Indiana. This was particularly apparent at Easter when each year, the little girls each got a new Easter dress and bonnet. White patent-leather shoes were also purchased, and we pulled out the white gloves and knee-high white socks.
Easter dresses were always pastel, and when you were preschool-age, there was a lot of smocking. I remember the layers of flounce and frothy fabrics in hues of lavender, pink and yellow. One year, when I had a particularly pretty dress, I begged Mom to let me debut mine on Palm Sunday, a week early. I don’t think she let me.
But that’s OK because the dresses would be worn again and again, Sunday after Sunday, special event after event, until they were outgrown and replaced by the following Easter’s "good dress."
I felt pretty, but not particularly comfortable, in Easter clothes. One dress in particular had scratchy under-layers but worse were those bonnets with the elastic chin straps. Those cut into our necks but I don't think the straps survived long from all the pulling we did at them.
I'm not sure how many times this happened, but at some point a pastor pointed out that it wasn't our pretty new dresses and Easter duds that Jesus cared about. So I felt a little guilty about the satin and tulle after that, and I suppose due in part to his comment, it has never been a stretch for me to believe it doesn't much matter what you wear to worship.
Do you remember the hand-held paper fans? Seems they were compliments of a funeral home and the photo on them was of a sweet little girl dressed for Easter.
The first time I ever wore pantyhose was on Easter. I could not wait for the morning to arrive so I could get them out of the package and wear them with my yellow-checked mini-skirt-length dress. This was fifth grade.
I suspect that women always wore hats as typically as they would have hose -- until the late 1960s -- and we're not likely to wear them as a matter of custom ever again. When I worked at a department store my senior year of high school, there was still a hat department but I don’t recall ever seeing a woman in there trying on anything. I suppose it was a nod to the older-lady crowd that still believed hats made the outfit.
Remember the “I Love Lucy” shows? Lucy loved hats and I remember one episode where she discussed with Ricky her love of a beautiful hat she had purchased. And who could forget Jackie Kennedy’s pillbox toppers?
We’re always hearing that hats are making a comeback, and while I see a few fashion-forward younger women rocking them beautifully, for most of us, they just don’t look right. There’s a Knightstown attorney-author I know, Patricia Goodspeed, whose signature look includes a hat. And she has some beautiful ones, as well as she looks great in them. But honestly, most of us don't have what it takes to pull them off. And frankly, I'm not quite sure what it does take but it's something I don't have.
I enjoy accessories as much as the next woman but, I’m grateful that fashion doesn’t dictate that I add hats to my wardrobe.
I’d rather have another purse. Or some patent-leather shoes. And I wouldn't mind a corsage. For old times' sake.