Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Not Today, Coach
Remember that scene in Some Kind of Wonderful where Eric Stoltz finally manages to score a date with high school hottie Lea Thompson and practices kissing with his platonic punkette buddy (Mary Stuart Masterson), who immediately upon locking lips realizes she is head over heels in love with Stoltz, but in typical thick-as-a-brick teenage male fashion, he won't realize for another 95 minutes that the person he really loves was right there under his nose the entire time?
That's the relationship I might possibly have with my shoes.
A couple posts back, I wrote about my spring fever for a pair of neutral-colored wedge or platform sandals. And it's not like I'm having trouble finding one – Piperlime and Endless and Nine West are chock-a-block full of hundreds of styles and price points. To many, perhaps. The choices are so infinite, that I'm beginning to feel like I'm back in math class. I just can't make it all compute.
However, if you've even cracked for a second the pages of any recent fashion magazine, you've most likely seen the pair I've been stalking for a few weeks. What I have considered to quite possibly be the perfect pair of neutral spring shoes.
It's the Stefanie by Coach, a 4-1/2" stacked-heeled gladiator-esque beauty that makes my heart jump into my throat just looking at it. Only problem is, it's a bit pricey, coming in at nearly 200 smackers. Not bad if you consider the quality of the brand and the fact that the style will skip lightly through all four seasons and, with care and maintenance, the rest of your life.
Off to Dillard's last week I went to try it on. Oh yes, it is a most high quality shoe. Beautifully put together with soft as butta leatha and a cushy foot bed guaranteeing a smooth ride, regardless of your destination.
The one thing that didn't ring my bell was the color. Pirate and I have discussed before the danger of the neutral trend. The right tone of pale can make you look like you were born to yacht the Côte d'Azur.
But pick a wrong one and you may as well teleport yourself back in time to the plague-ridden Dark Ages and wait to be scooped up off the streets for burial. Because dead is never a good look on anyone.
Sure enough. On my foot? The Stefanie, she disappeared. Poof! Melded right into my skin as if they had both been created out of the same tube of burnt sienna mixed with just the right amount of white. The only thing you could see were the buckles.
Was I disappointed? Not really. Because had the shoe been faboo, I could possibly have been out $200. This way, I can do something really revolutionary and spelunk my closet instead. I just might discover – ah-hah! – that the right shoe has been under my nose the entire time.