Shuesday: Ruby Slippers

It's Hallowe'en, and rather than share with you over-sexed shoes for witches, I thought I'd go the Wizard of Oz route (the movie, not the book, because in the book she wore silver shoes) and find new shoes to go with my fantabulous full length red dress. I like these, but they're a little too much shoe for the dress. These would be much better. And they're /Catchy/!

What was I thinking? Part Two

With help, I tackled the storage unit on Sunday, and things weren't as bad as anticipation had convinced me they'd be.

But on the topic of things I've kept for reasons that now escape me ...

If you didn't know me, and you looked at the plastic bin of sweatshirts, sweaters and coats from my university days that was unearthed and Goodwill-ed this weekend, you'd swear I pulled a Monica Geller, dropping 100 pounds in the years between graduation and today. Giant winter coats, Guatamalan sweaters that could easily accomodate two - what was I thinking, walking around university like the Stay-Puft marshmallow girl?

What was I thinking? Part One

(Because I'm confident this is but the first installment of an ongoing month-long series.)

I have every Bon Appetit issue for the past 6 years. That's right, 2000 - 2006. On my bookshelves. Actually, on their way to recycling now, but still!

Yarn geek

I just realized how much time I'll have to knit as we drive across the country! The shawl for baby Smith-Gulyas will be done before the holidays! Woo hoo!

At this point, it's the little things.

The elephant in the room

Imagine it on an adorable two year old.

It wasn't hard to make, although I really ought to have started on the (plain) back instead of getting the hard part over with and learning intarsia at the very beginning. Sort of the knitting version of eating your vegetables first. Assuming you're not a fan of veggies.

Shuesday: Take from me my lace ... please!

I don't know what the deal is with black lace shoes this fall, but just because Louboutin is doing it doesn't make it right. Yuk.

I'm not saying that black lace doesn't have its place, but it's not on my footwear.

Do you really want to live forever?

Not if it means I have to eat Quorn ...

April brings the main course: a medley of asparagus tips, shiitake mushrooms, and the featured ingredient, an unlikely hybrid of life-giving wholesomeness and bio-industrial hubris known as Quorn.

Quorn, at last! For as long as I’ve been following the blogs and mailing lists of the greater Calorie Restriction community, I’ve been reading about this patented wonder morsel, perhaps the ultimate in CR-friendly foods. Grown in fermentation tanks from a cultured strain of the soil mold Fusarium venenatum, Quorn in its virgin state is almost pure protein and very low in calories. Processing adds various essential nutrients, including a generous helping of zinc, which is concentrated in almost no other food but oysters and which the calorie-restricted can never get enough of. The end product tastes and chews remarkably like an unbreaded Chicken McNugget and can substitute for meat with all the versatility of soy (Quorn dogs, Quorn cutlets, and Quorn roasts are just a few of the faux-flesh varieties on offer) yet with fewer saturated fats and none of the alleged dementia-and/or-male-aggression-causing properties.

I'm sorry, but that's not food.

I'm interested in the longevity issues here - as far as I can tell, it's a better way to stay young than plastic surgery - but it also seems like another way to feed those OCD tendencies we all have hovering just below (or above) the surface.

The Fast Supper - NY Magazine
The Calorie Restriction Society

The things I've carried

When the house divided in March 2005, we made a list of, well, everything, and I came across it as I started actually making those sell, keep and question mark piles. Amazing to see it in such stark relief:

Dresser w/ mirror, dresser, lamp, clock radio, big bookshelves, small bookshelf, phone, surge protectors, speaker system, TV, VCR, couch & throw pillows, coffin stool, little closet, armchair & throw pillows, green rug, coffee table, entertainment unit, hanging shelf, vacuum, iron & board, drying rack, feather duster, large coffee maker, cocktail shaker, large cutting board, small cutting board, kitchen scale, fondue pot, Cuisinart, mini chopper, stand mixer, pots, glass bowls, spice set, Indian spice set, cookie cutters, pasta maker, kettle.

Half of the following: muffin tins, cookie sheets, measuring utensils, cooling racks, placemats, glasses, Tupperware, wine glasses, mugs, silverware, oven mitts, pot holders, trivets, cookbooks, bread pans, cake pans, emile henry bakeware, wine tools, kitchen utensils, serving utensils, dish towels, pitchers, vases, tablecloths.

Can't wait to see what actually goes with me. Little from the first paragraph and much from the second is my initial guess.

Landslide

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life

Surely I'm entitled to a single moment of st. andre/tete de moins/pont l'eveque at a time like this, right?

Back from the conference in DC, which was a blast, although I hardly left the hotel. Managed to spend a ton of time with the new team, enjoyed several meals with Josh Lyman (who wears fabulous suits and whose wit and sense of humour are thankfully intact), and managed to lose my favourite smoke purple pashmina. I highly recommend Jetblue, btw, although 6 hours of knitting and TV watching at close range in my seat left me a tad jittery once we landed. But hey, another pumpkin hat is almost complete for the next little arrival.

Did round one of the bookshelves last night - very freeing to have the ultimate excuse to get rid of stuff I must say. I'm almost looking forward to reducing my life to a single small U-haul.

Of course, this is Week One of The Seven Weeks that will see me through aforementioned reduction and on the other side of the country. I reserve the right to change my mood, although not the right to change my mind.

Shuesday: It's all in the details

This calfskin pump from Christian Dior didn't wow me UNTIL


I noticed the zipper framing the heel. Genius!

Best Week Ever

In no particular order:

Fabulous dinner party, got the job, won Phase 10 by leaps and bounds, found the bag (brown) at 40% off and no tax, got a line on an apartment, located two great tops without having to cross the bridge, took care of the car issue, attended the best yoga class ever, found the perfect parking spot, bought the very last scotch glass, beat the head cold, found another excellent bag (rouge) to go with the new shoes (vermillion kid), and am now heading to DC for the conference.

Yes, I realize it had more than a liberal sprinkling of shopping.

Take that, Friday the 13th!

This is not my beautiful October

And this is why we live on the other side of Lake Ontario. It's called the Lake Effect. I'm just saying.

How's the weather up there?

The Manolo comes out swinging on behalf of the over 5' 8" contingent:

Dear Manolo, I love heels, especially all the new stacked heels out for fall. But I’m pretty tall at 5’10” and would hate to break the 6’ mark. Is it possible to have heels cut down? Maggie

Manolo says, ayyyyyyy! Have the heels cut down? Have you no shame woman?

Yes, you may have the heels cut down, although the Manolo doubts that any reputable cobbler would desecrate the beautiful shoes in such the manner, so you would have to do it yourself, perhaps with the series of inexpert blows delivered forcefully overhand with the small hatchet.

Of the course, the real problem here, it is not with the shoes–the poor, innocent, much maligned shoes–but in the stead, the real problem here it is the habitual and unnecessary insecurity of the tall girls.

It has been the experience of the Manolo that too many of the tall girls worry that if they wear the heels they shall appear freakish, and will not be able to attract the mens, who they believe are intimidated by their Amazonian stature. And so these beautiful girls spend their lives slumping their shoulders, slouching around in the flats trying to look shorter.

Bah! The Manolo would have none of this!

Stand proudly tall sisters! Throw back the shoulders and wear the heels, and the mens will fall over themselves attempting to climb your heights.

What he said.

DVF

Read a fascinating profile of Diane von Furstenberg in The New Yorker recently ... and then I saw this.

I get it. I totally get it.

Not so Funny Face

The FG's been annoyed by this for weeks, but has been a tad bit pre-occupied to blog it. So very glad to see the Gothamist picked it up.

Gothamist is not a fan of the ad - it makes us pity Audrey, hate "Back in Black" and want to run for cover, which is difficult, since the commercial plays on every single channel. It's interestingly jarring the first time you watch it, but then, upon airing after airing, you realize that the two things have nothing to go with each other and then you're left with a case of the mean reds. (...) The LA Times reported that Hepburn's son Sean Ferrer did work with the Gap and did approve the ads, so there's nothing we can do about it, except lobby the Rainiers and beg them not to sell footage of Grace Kelly in High Society to the Gap.

The Horror, the Horror!

Shuesday: Faaa-bulous!

I'm going to need winter boots ... these seemed appropriate.

Unfortunately, they won't go with my new winter coat - maybe I can have them dyed pink ...


Also, if you're in the Emerald City November 19th, the Grand Hyatt is hosting the first annual Sips and Shoes, a wine-tasting and shoe auction. Click here for details.

Insight

There's a weird, weird, weird, weird, weird relationship between Toronto and Montreal, and this joke sums it up better than any 2-3 hour explanation I could give you:

At the last Just For Laughs (in Montreal), a comic told this joke. He said: "I travel in America and people ask me, 'what's the story with Toronto and Montreal?' So I tell them, it's like you have two brothers. One is an accountant. The other is a womanizing alcoholic." And before he gets to the end of the sentence, the crowd starts cheering, so he tells them "Well I guess we know which one you are." He swears he tells the same joke the same way and gets exactly the same reaction in Toronto.

Why? People in Toronto think they're the womanizing alcoholic too?

No. Toronto knows it's the accountant. And it's really proud it's not the womanizing alcoholic.

Ahem.

Vicarious exercise

My friends are fit, damnit. TK occasionally runs half marathons, regularly runs 5Ks, and bicycles betweeen major West Coast cities with her S.O. The Scottish Cowgirl just returned from hiking the Inca Trail. Midwest Medved bikes to work and finished 66th (out of 653) in an 100 mile bike race yesterday. The Renaissance Man bikes to work, and is a freaking kite-boarder, among other things. BS swims (outside, lucky girl). The Scot plays tennis and soccer every week with the Cookie Monster. Marooned bikes to work, rock climbs, hikes and runs.

There was a time when I attended two spin classes a week and yoga every weekend, but I've slacked off. Reduced to yoga twice a month on average (life gets in the way of a Saturday late morning class sometimes, and I'm picky about my teacher), and a 3-4 mile run once a week. I keep meaning to take it up to twice a week, I really do. The weather is turning, which means back to the treadmill for the weather averse (ahem), and , in light of what's to come, I may do it for the theraputic value alone. I somehow manage not to overthink while running, and that's going to be above rubies in the next 2-3 months.

Champagne, anyone?

R.I.P. R.W. Apple Jr.

One of my favourite writers, about anything, but particularly about food, passed away this morning.

R. W. Apple Jr., who in more than 40 years as a correspondent and editor at The New York Times wrote about war and revolution, politics and government, food and drink, and the revenge of living well from more than 100 countries, died early this morning in Washington. He was 71.

R.W. Apple's regular, extended articles in the Dining & Wine section of the NYT were a joy to read, not only for his use of language, but for his genuine enthusiasm for travel and food, and for his hilarious and frequent references to his wife Betsey. Re-live them here - thanks NYT for opening the vault.

Shuesday: Shoeru aspirations

Thought you'd all appreciate this definition (And cute cartoon) from Mixtionary:

Shoeru: A deeply knowledgable style queen to whom you can turn for guidance in the matters of footwear.

Maybe someday. In the meantime, here's a nod of the head/wag of the finger query for the group - what do we think about tortoise shell shoes? Obviously not real tortoise shell, but hmmm. They remind me of ... my favourite hair barrette, to be perfectly honest.

Judgy-wudgy

Handbag.com has suggestions for footwear-based analysis of the men in your life. Or perhaps the men you wish were in your life?

Doc Martens: He's in a band. Or he used to be in a band. Or he thinks a lot about bands. If you like music, you could have a lot of fun with this guy.

/If you like music/? Because there are people who don't like music? (Sidebar: Look at us! We formed a band!)

Bowling shoes: A favourite of Generation X intelligentsia, these show off a man's hip quotient. The wearer will be self-deprecating, funny, clever and knowledgeable about pop culture. He could make a good boyfriend, if you don't mind an underemployed intellectual who never has enough money to take you to dinner.

I had higher hopes for this column, but if you get to the end, you'll realize she's just flogging a book with a little old fashioned sexism. Or reverse sexism. Or both.

via Shoewawa