Am I a Sartorial Psychic?

A couple months ago, Mom and I were spending an afternoon browsing in the Meatpacking District. As one is wont to do, we ambled into Anthropologie and made a beeline for the sale section.

Perhaps there’s still a trace of whimsy left in me after all. Not a bad find for $29, right? Image courtesy of Anthropologie.

Shopping at Anthropologie is, more or less, a habit from my more youthful past (of five years ago). With a bent toward the whimsical, most of Anthropologie’s offerings now seem too young for me. Life has pretty much beaten all the whimsy out of me. Nevertheless, I like to peek every now and then.

On that April day, I came across a colorful cardigan I had seen the last time I was in Anthropologie. It was marked $89, on sale from $118 or some preposterous price. But somehow I just knew that it was supposed to be cheaper than that.

“I’m just going to ask at the register,” I said. “It might have gone on sale even more and they forgot to mark it.”

“I don’t know. I suppose you can ask,” Mom said skeptically.

“I just have a feeling,” I continued. “Something inside me says it’s supposed to be much less.”

“Well, it can’t hurt to ask,” Mom, with no less skepticism.

At the register I handed the woman the sweater. “Is this priced as marked, or has it gone on sale more?”

She rang it up—for $29, which I happily forked over. “It’s good you asked. Occasionally we forget to mark something down when it goes on sale again.” Everyone—Mom, the saleswoman, especially me—was duly impressed with me.

“I just had this feeling,” I explained.

Now let’s face it. If I were a true psychic, I wouldn’t have to shop on things for sale because I’d have won the lottery a hundred times over, since I would know the winning numbers ahead of time. But I guess I’ll take whatever little powers I can get, and for now I suppose I’ll have to settle for being a sartorial psychic.


Crisis in Denim Contemplates Letting Herself Go

Lately, I’ve been thinking about letting myself, well…how shall I say it?

Amy's Bread Pink Frosted Cake

I would eat an entire one of these in one sitting, if I could just bring myself not to care about fitting into super-cute clothes. It’s delicious. Plus, it’s pink, like my blog. Photo courtesy of Amy’s Bread.

I’ve been thinking about letting myself go. Really go to seed. As in, drop that Abs Attack! class and let my only exercise be the walk from the couch to the freezer for a gallon of Edy’s Slow Churned (Light ice cream ceases to be “light” when you eat one dozen servings over the course of as many hours, bee-tee-dubs.).

I mean, here I am, pushing middle age. Single. We all know it’s right about now that gravity really starts to gain the upper hand anyway, so why not let gravity do its thing (exert its saggy forces on my body), while I do my thing (eat a tub of ice cream the size of my head all in one sitting)? I’d never have to have a denim crisis when my cropped Paige jeans felt snug. Instead, I’d just pull on my fave elastic-waist jeans.

Well, here’s my reason: Continue reading

Whither Worishofers?

You guys are cute and all. I just don’t think it’s going to work out.

After a recent shoe debacle that involved a pair of red Timberlands, the soles of my feet, and blisters the size of the drachma before Greece switched to the Euro, I began anew a quest for red sandals.

While on my journey I found myself regularly seeing these cute, well-priced cherry-red sandals by some brand called Worishofer. (When I went to Google them I remembered the brand as “Warshofsky” and found out about David Warshofsky who apparently is a TV actor who gets a lot of work, and also about Keith Warshofsky who is a criminal attorney in Tampa whom I hope I never have to call but you never know.). Then, I started noticing them on feet tooling up and down 7th Avenue in Park Slope the other day. Suddenly, they were everywhere.

Anyway, these sandals looked like the consummate old-lady shoes.  A little pattern cut into the leather. Thick-corked soles. Other styles had laces. They even had a medical-looking “plus” sign branding them as orthopedic shoes. So I just knew they were so grandma-like that I would never, not for one minute, be hip enough to wear them. Continue reading

When You Can’t Wear Aerosoles it’s Time to Pack it in

Time was I thought of Aerosoles shoes as synonymous with old lady feet. I may be wrong about this, but it seemed to me that if you were buying Aerosoles  it was like “Hey on the way to the senior center could we swing by the mall for some Aerosoles?”

Well, seems I’m being punished for turning my once-young nose up at Aerosoles all these years.  Because not too long ago I tried on a pair and found the heels were too high. That’s right, the heels on Aerosoles were too high.

Another love lost. Photo courtesy of Aerosoles.

I was spending a weekend afternoon running errands, when a sale sign in the window of an Aerosoles store caught my eye. Inside, I spotted them. The cutest-ever, and I mean EVER, pair of wedge shoes in the Oxford style that’s so hot this fall, but with a little panel cut out of each side, the perfect summer-to-fall transition shoe. The absolute best thing about them was their purple-red color, what some might call “merlot” or “cabernet.”

The saleswoman even offered to knock an extra something-something off the sale price since I’d be buying the display pair. I put them on, excited, and stood up to strut around the store.

Only, I couldn’t strut. My ankle wobbled. My knees bent to keep me from pitching forward. I took a turn around the store, then admitted defeat. Even Aerosoles-AEROSOLES- with their soft, cushy soles were too high and hip for me. I trudged out of the store thinking “if you’re too old for Aerosoles, you’re really old.”

One thing I did learn though, is that there is a lovely wine color that’s showing up on shoes right now and I plan to drink deep– I just have to find the right pair.

I did spot these Frye beauties at Nordstrom recently, in a color elegantly named bordeaux. Still, i’m not in the market for boots this season and at Frye prices there would be no way to shut up my Really Irritating Internal Voice (RIIV) even if I were Just to try them on. Just to see how they looked, of course.

So: Fall shoes in bordeaux/merlot/cabernet. Stylish but not too high. In my (somewhat meager) price range. Let the quest begin.