My 40th Birthday Gift to Myself:
Red Patent Peep Toe Sling Backs
The Manolo Blahnik Boutique
31 W 54th Street, NYC
It's Monday! That means it's time for "Conversations from My Closet"...
I have been a shoe addict ever since I can remember. My earliest shoe memory is when I was a wee toddler and picked out my first black patent leather shoes. I would love it when my grandparents would visit from New York because that meant we would go shoe shopping. I picked out a pair of flat black patent leather shoes with ties that went all the way up my ankle. Even then, Mary Janes were a no go; too conventional. My shoes had to have flair. They couldn't be common place! I have photo of myself around 5 or 6 years old, sitting on a bed. I have my legs crossed, my hair in a bun, a short skirt and those fabulous shoes tied half way up my leg. I thought I was a princess. That feeling brought about by fabulous shoes has not changed since then and I hope it never does.
Before I turned the iconic age of 40, I decided that the one thing I wanted to buy for myself was a pair of the famous and outrageously expensive Manolo Blahniks. How could a self respecting shoe diva not have a pair in her closet by the time she turned 40?!? For the love of God, I needed a pair!! I was like a woman possessed to find some I could afford. I finally found my pair: a gorgeous pair of hand made Italian red patent leather sling backs. I bought them on eBay because the exact same pair were for sale at Barneys, Saks and Neiman Marcus for $695. My husband loves me, but I think that if I paid $695 dollars for anything that didn't have a motor, I would be putting our marriage in serious jeopardy. I won't tell you what I paid, but I will say it was an amount that had him choking, but not seriously.
When these came in the mail, I thought I would have a heart attack! I ripped open the box and ran upstairs to my room like a lovesick teenager. I immediately tried them on and felt like I died and went to shoe heaven. There is nothing like the smell of rich leather, the feel of total butter soft, leather lining and the mark "hand made in Italy"that puts a shoe diva over the moon. I don't remember what I was wearing, but I do know for a fact that it was an embarrassment to fashionistas everywhere. I didn't have on any makeup, I didn't have my hair done and I didn't even have a pedicure. I was a frumpy, mommy mess and I didn't care. I felt like I was walking the red carpet.
Of course, I had to wear them to my 40th birthday party, after all that is why I bought them. I looked down and mentally ticked off the list: professional pedicure, siren red polish, almond cuticle oil, peppermint foot cream. And, what to wear? I spent several days combing stores finding just the right outfit that would set off my shoes. I had to listen to the shoes to find the proper outfit. These shoes say, "You are glamorous in that expensive yet dignified way." These shoes say, "You have exquisite, timeless taste." These shoes say, "You paid waaaayyyy to much for shoes!" These are all the things I wanted my shoes to say on the day I met 40s squarely in the eye. I don't know what my shoes said to everyone who looked at them, but I do know I drove everyone CRAZY with my "look at my Manolo Blahniks" mantra. I was lucky I wasn't rendered unconscious with my own shoe by a well meaning but sick of hearing it party goer!
I have had the occasion to wear these only a few times. I know I shouldn't save things for special occasions, because life is too short. Still, somehow I can't wear these during the course of my regular life. $695 shoes do not belong clomping on the laminate tiles of my local box chain, grocery store or mall. I have worn them in a limo when my sister, Becki, won that ride along with tickets to the local "Sex In the City" movie premiere. This was quite fitting as Carrie Bradshaw inspired my insane obsession with Manolo Blahniks in the first place. We drank champagne and we took turns taking photos of our fabulous shoes resting up on the bar near the champagne bucket. I then wore them to a beautiful country club wedding with my husband. I had no extra money at the time to buy a dress, so I borrowed one and it wasn't what I wanted nor did it do my shoes justice. I had waayyy too much to drink and nearly drove my husband's cousin insane admiring my "Manolos." I remember her vaguely saying something like, "you are quite pleased with yourself and your shoes"or something to that effect. I also remember thinking that I really should tell her that I'm not this shallow, but, in that moment, I have to confess, I was.
Speaking of shallow, I went to NYC last summer. It was a wonderful girlfriend's weekend full of shopping, cosmos and live theater. I dragged my friends about 20 walking blocks to find the Manolo Blahnik boutique. There is one other in the United States, that I know of, in Las Vegas. Otherwise, you have to go to super high end department stores in large cities, the Internet or Europe to find them. After walking all over hell in the summer heat, we finally found the store. It was tucked between 5th and 6th Avenue. All that marked it's spot was a very discrete bronze plaque and a small locked glass door. After ringing the bell and having the security guard let us in, I hardly noticed that my friends were reluctant to even enter. This was not a tourist attraction. This smelled of money- lots and lots of money. We were dressed respectably, but we looked like hillbillies compared to what usually entered this place. I tried not to care and I'm sure my friends were even more uncomfortable. I drooled like a starving child in a candy store at the million of dollars worth of shoes, handbags and accessories. I swore to my friends that I was trying on whatever I wanted in there, but once I got a look at the very cold, very beautiful, very leggy 20-something sales clerk, I quickly changed my mind. I practically bowed while walking backwards on my way out. I never felt so out classed or out of place in my life. All because of the price of a pair of shoes. How stupid.
What I realized after this shopping trip is that these shoes really say to me, "This is the life you think you've always wanted." With my 40s, I have realized that my fantasy life is nice for a fantasy, but I'm quite happy with the way things have turned out. I thought I wanted to be a high powered lawyer who saved the world, made a ton of money and lived in a brownstone in New York City. A husband and one child would be an accessory that didn't really take up too much time. The ton of money would buy me the high priced designer wardrobe and envy I so craved. I know now that my reality is so much better. I am raising a big, noisy family with lots of love, plastic toys, a minivan and the one pair of dream designer shoes. Although I am reminded of movie stars, CEOs and fashion models- my fantasy life- when I look at my Manolos, I prefer my the here and now. Its a fun fantasy, but I wouldn't trade my sneaker wearing soccer mom life for 100 pairs of Manolos Blahniks. My happiness cannot be found on racks or shelves of designer fashion. My bliss is here in a cul-de-sac in New Hampshire with all the mess, noise and mid-range sports wear. I just need a warm, sticky hug or a huge gaped tooth grin to remind me now and again. In the end, that is what these shoes have been telling me all along.
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