Posts Tagged ‘slippers


6 Days in Clarks’ Soul of Africa

Clarks' Soul of Africa Mules Warming Up in Somerville

Yikes! Once I freed these mules from their box, they got quite a workout.  For a few decadent minutes, I warmed them on the marble slab above our heater. Barely an hour later, they zipped through the x-ray machine at Logan and headed for Amsterdam.

Less than 24 hours later with water stains waiting for the train in Amsterdam

My socks slid against the slick leather insoles and the tips of my toes got a bit soggy as we  slogged through the snowy streets in Holland. If I had realized that Europe would be seized by such uncommon storms, I might have packed something more sensible for our brief layover. Thankfully, we did not get stranded there.

In Casablanca, we joined up with the rest of  the Somerville-Tiznit Sister Cities delegation and hopped on a plane to Agadir. After a sumptuous feast by the ocean, we boarded a bus bound for Tiznit. At around 2AM, after over 26 hours of traveling, we checked in to the Hotel Idou Tiznit where we stole a few hours of sleep before we launched into a four day marathon of magnificent activities. Our group meandered through an ancient medina, viewed artists’ studios, bounced to irresistible Berber beats, toured schools, explored cultural centers, and attended lavish meals with local dignitaries. Believe me, my jet lagged tootsies were tremendously grateful for the supple cushions in the soles of these mules.

Lounging in an artist's studio in Tiznit

Returning home to the throes of winter, my hand-stitched Soul of Africa slippers were replaced by my Sorel boots. Frankly though, I think they are praying for Punxsutawney Phil to spot his shadow on Tuesday so they can enjoy the quiet sanctuary of the shelf as long as possible.

To comply with recent legislation regarding blogging, you should know that my trip was sponsored by University of the Middle East Project, The U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs in concert with Sister Cities International, the City of Somerville, the City of Tiznit and the Moroccan American Cultural Center. Please realize that most of my experiences would not be typical for anyone else.


Walk Softly…

My gorgeous roommie handed me a pair of navy blue velvet slippers adorned with hand-beaded dragons. They were a gift for the Chinese New Year, but I was puzzled by their easy elegance when we were entering the year of the tirelessly hard-working, levelheaded ox.

My roommie, who’s first generation American-born Chinese, said slippers are a tradition, regardless of the animal we’re honoring. New slippers at the start of the New Year will bring you good fortune, and even better, when you wear them around the house, you’re spiritually stomping on those who gossip about you.

That got me thinking of mine as a comforting psychic protector, taking on the persona of a femme fatale in an invisible world of shoe-driven spiritual battles. I started wondering about other slippers that might make good karmic defenders and decided to troll eBay in homage to the economical ox.

1millionFirst I found these Raquel Welch in One Million Years BC-esque alpaca wool beauties.barbarellaslips

Next I was thinking futuristic and found Barbarella-worthy silver slip-ons, whether we’re talking the Jane Fonda version or the up-and-coming Rose McGowan remake.silver1

Finally I found cozy velvet bedroom slip-ons from J.Crew, perfect for a quiet night at home after a long day of triple-agenting for Alias’ Sydney Bristow, played by the preppy, pretty Jennifer Garner.jcrew1

Gossip girls beware, or beat me to these auctions!


Reality Show Shoo-In

ABC’s latest Bachelor is a bona fide British hunk and I’m swooning. Let it be known that this is something I rarely do. Let it also be known that I’ve got a little personal history here. Yes, reader… I was a bachelorette… season eight.

And I’m still peeved with the producers for sticking me with the goody two shoes Doctor.

Given my crazy dating history, I was a shoo-in for casting.

Was I a match for Tennessee’s Travis Stork? Not so much.
Rewind to 2005. Network producers have sequestered me and 24 other Bachelorettes inside separate rooms at the Sofitel Paris with only a

disconnected telephone, a bathroom and French television to keep us entertained. I spend most of my time devouring croissants in the bathtub while devising my strategy. Four nights later, we’re dressed to thrill (me in my new glass slippers) and riding in limos en route to a cocktail party at the Bachelor pad, a 14th-century château.

At the entrance stands our supposed soul mate, a doctor from Nashville, who at first glance is a living mannequin.

A split-second assessment of his uptight demeanor and the surrounding obstacle course—mossy stairs and cobblestones—tells me the odds of falling on my behind are greater than the chances of falling in love with this stranger. In any case, I’m nervous. I get out of the limo and, doing my best goddess-walk, make my way toward the thirtysometing star. Maintaining my balance is a real feat in the slippers, but I manage.
Making friends with the other women is the fun part. They’re hilarious and most of us share a distaste for our Bachelor’s last name (not to mention the shaggy pre-makeover pic we discover of him on the Internet upon returning to the US). Upon saying a few snarky remarks, I’m summoned to give an on-camera confession outside. That’s when my prized glass slipper (okay, so it was really a gold, strappy Stuart Weitzman) slips hard—down the stairs. The entire weight of my croissant-loving being lands on my ankle. My shoes look even sadder than I do, all splotched with mud and scraped up at the heel.
The swelling is immediate and the pain is unbearable, but I must keep up appearances for my public: “I’m not crying! I’m a brave soldier!” I limp back inside on my perilous heels in search of ice and I’m devastated when the doctor Bachelor is of no assistance. Is he a quack, I wonder? Or just consumed by all of the cameras and girls revealing nipples through their dresses? [Note: I’m so candid about my ankle, which swells to resemble an eggplant, that during the several months leading up to the show’s airing I can think of nothing but how the editors will find a way to use my words out of context. Fortunately, they left my fall—and my squabble with Stork over the merits of fame and fried chicken—on the cutting room floor.]
Later, the ladies assemble for the climactic elimination ceremony—the one featuring the famed “rotten egg” debacle. We gather around a pedestal bearing precious few roses (symbols for romantic potential and a guaranteed appearance on next week’s episode) for the Bachelor to distribute.
Thus commences the largest contestant exodus in the show’s history. Thirteen of the 25 women will be dismissed over the course of two or more hours, and I can’t bear all this standing around: I’m now swaying in my stilettos on the weight of my one good ankle. Stork sighs as he makes eye contact with me then offers the final flower of the evening to the woman in ringlets next to me.
Cue the Prozac commercial.
[Note: Allow me to digress once more to mention that Dr. Phil has since hired Stork as a correspondent, which disproves my quack theory and lends credence to the nipple theory. My friends joke that I should call in for some advice about methods for healing a broken heart and a ruptured ankle.]
Needless to say, this whole experiment in romantic roulette did force me to confront the question, Is the slight possibility of finding love worth the risk of looking like a fool?
The answer is a resounding oui.
Was it worth ruining a new pair of shoes? I’m not so convinced.

(ed’s note: You can find current badboy Brit Bachelor, Monday 9:30 pm on ABC. You can find Stephanie, Shoetube is sure, at home at that time, eyes glued to the screen. Don’t call, don’t text. Wait til after.)


All Bunny, All The Time… Where Have you Gone, Roger Rabbit?

Who hasn’t had a pair of crazy fun slippers?

Maybe even more than a general love of shoes, I love slippers. Many interesting pairs have graced my closet over the years including ones resembling hairy monster feet.

But my all-time favorite pair of slippers were the Roger Rabbit slippers I received at Christmas one year. They were huge, like a stuffed toy, with Roger Rabbit in his bright red pants with the yellow buttons jutting out from the tops looking all zany and goofy.*

*(ed’s note: couldn’t find a picture of said slippers anywhere, but we did find the above most awesome dune buggy/rabbit slippers snap at the fun blogspot, HopScotch. Their motto: All Bunny, All the Time. If anybody has a pix of Roger Rabbit slippers, send ’em on in.)

That year I competed in the eighth grade Science Fair at my school. The project presentations happened to coincide with the school’s Spirit Week, and the day I gave my science project presentation was “Crazy Slipper Day,” one of the theme days for Spirit Week.

Everyone was decked out in their goofiest slippers, myself included. I gave my presentation, which was all about diet, health, and nutrition, in my Roger Rabbit slippers and ended up winning First Place in the Science Fair! No doubt it was more about the slippers than any McGroarty Zone Plan I came up with.

In fact, don’t remember the presentation particularly well at all, but I definitely remember standing in front of my class in those crazy slippers.

I know there are more crazy slippers in our closets….. What’re yours?

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April 2020