All posts tagged: Shoes

18 Seriously Comfortable Shoes for Spring and Summer

My shoe predicament has become even worse. About two springs ago, when I was on the hunt for the bestest, comfiest, maybe even cute-in-a-certain-light pair of shoes, I wrote this piece and was pretty proud of myself for rounding up such stellar soles. Over this past winter, however, I’ve realized that I’ve become so picky and obsessed with cushion and easy-to-wears that I’m down to TWO — count ‘em, just TWO — pairs of shoes: These perfect comfort-and-support sneakers from Asics (The GT-2000 4) and these vaguely chic, utilitarian suede boots from La Canadienne (The Felicia). I toggle back and forth between the pair. I blame some of my choosiness on going through some big physical ordeals this past year or so that made me ONLY do what feels good and right. Anything that rubbed, pinched, pressed or made me hobble around was so far from ok that I would ONLY wear shoes that felt like heaven. Now that it’s springtime and the sun wants to shine on my toes, I need to expand my …

Heels For A Higher Calling

Living in New York, working as a business reporter in the 1990s, and doing freelance lifestyle writing on the side, I got a kick out of all all the PR pitches, launches, and parties. Among them: renting out Ellis Island for a magazine party, Donald Trump’s 50th birthday, and, if memory serves, bringing elephants to midtown to help launch a perfume. So when my best friend Allison, the co-founder of a PR firm, asked me to volunteer to help out on an event where supermodels would be helping Doctors Without Borders, by decluttering their own closets, I couldn’t resist. I agreed to help check in guests and members of the press at the front desk of a high-end garage sale with items pulled from the closets (and storage units) of iconic ‘90s models Shalom Harlow and Kirsty Hume. The items would then be sold for between $10 and $100. It couldn’t have been more of the moment. There was even the requisite article in The NY Post about it by one of the lifestyle and fashion …

Splurge-Worthy: 12 Boots Made for Fall

I’ve reached a point in my career that I always fantasized about but never dreamed would actually come true: I work from home, full-time, all the time. Which means that pants are not a requirement for editorial meetings, as all of my editorial meetings occur on Skype. Which means that I don’t have to wear makeup (though I almost always do), and I rarely bother to blow-dry my hair. (Try this if you can; my curls have never been healthier.) Which means that my once fairly put together “look” — a look that I carefully curated during my years as a fashion and ladymag editor — has totally gone out the window in exchange for mock jersey crop pants and a wide array of tank tops, t-shirts and tunics. (If you haven’t already, check out Alternative Apparel. I now live in this brand.) If you told me five years ago that this kind of no-look look would eventually become my style status, I probably would have cried, assuming it a consequence of sobriety, a really …

Charting My Life History Through Best-Loved Shoes

For many women, our teenage years mark the birth of our personal sense of style. At that age, we’re striving to fit in with our peers even as we’re working hard to establish our individuality. What we choose to wear helps us navigate both gauntlets. Teens also focus on differentiating themselves from their parents, and God knows fashion is a powerful way to do that. In every generation, adolescents opt for clothes and shoes (and hairstyles, tattoos and piercings) that intentionally shock their elders in a not-so-subtle attempt to deliver this message: “I’m not you, I’m me. I make my own decisions now, and here’s what I think is cool.” As I began to emotionally separate from my very fashionable mother, I started choosing styles that she would never wear nor pick for me. To her credit, she supported me all the way even when my choices were, in retrospect, hideous. (Anyone else remember Earth shoes?) When I think back on my best-loved shoes from that time in my life, it’s clear that the choices …

My Never-Ending Quest for Seriously Comfortable Summer Shoes

“Size 10 and a half if you have ‘em?” I handed two shoes to the sales person — a sleek silver oxford and a squishy-souled FitFlop sandal. Comfy shoes. I looked just across the crowded Lord & Taylor shoe department to see a crisply-habit-ed nun, legs crossed demurely, waiting for something or someone. She smiled at me. (I was working on the Faith issue at the time, so of course I took this as some prescient moment. Anyway. ) When the shoes arrived, the silver oxfords were a bust: beautiful but ouch-tight and narrow. At this point in my life, I simply can’t wear anything that remotely hurts. Wrenching them off, I slipped on the FitFlop. Thick black straps, a cork sole — they weren’t the belle of the ball but they promised podiatric pleasure. GLORY BE if they weren’t the most comfortable objects I’d ever slipped on my feet. Like walking on air. No, as if I simply didn’t have feet — just fluffy clouds attached to my legs. They didn’t look half bad …

Trading a Favor for Shoes in the Soviet Union

  My toes felt scrunched. The nails I’d forgotten to cut pushed against my white tights and the new, stiff leather. “How are they?” my grandfather asked. He’d just brought over these shoes from his house and the moment he took them out of the box I was in love. The most beautiful things I’d seen in the short, seven years I’d been alive, they were lacquered, a chocolate brown color and had a great big buckle in the middle. They smelled of leather and sported a very small, square heel that to me put them in the same category as my mother’s platforms. And they were made in Japan. For the 1970s Soviet citizen this may as well have been the Manolo Blahnik workshop. Foreign goods — and foreign shoes, in particular — captivated us. We were stuck behind the Iron Wall and forced to wear the ugly, shoddy creations of the planned Communist economy. The few of our citizenry who traveled abroad always came back with their suitcases bursting with goods for both …

Big Foot: Life in Size 12s

At nine, I was already one of the tallest kids in 4th grade — you can always find me in my tortoise-shell cat glasses in the last row of class pictures — and I must have had one of, if not the, biggest pairs of feet among the girls. I can’t recall the size cutoff in the girls’ shoe department but my mother must have known I was already pushing it. I suppose hope sprung eternal in her, too. My mom loved to shop, and she imparted that love in me from an early age. Back when I was a girl in suburban St. Louis, some of our best days involved wandering the racks and doing our version of “the ladies who lunch.” Fortified, we would set out on our quest once again. But nothing could prepare me for that fateful day in 1970 in the girls’ department at Stix, Baer & Fuller. I had gathered the cute styles all my friends were wearing, handed them to the salesman and sat patiently with my mom …

Dr. Strangeloafer: How I Learned To Stop Wearing Leather And Love My Shoes

Some people, like me, give up leather because they don’t fancy the idea of wearing animals’ skin. Others are trying to go a bit easier on Mother Earth in general (even as a byproduct of the meat industry, leather has a massive carbon footprint and the chemicals used to process it are just as nasty as — and often much nastier than —the stuff that goes into faux leather).* For all I know, there may be a third, kinky group that’s just really into wearing plastics. Who can say? One constant: We all have to work a bit harder to find good-looking accessories. I’m no hippie, and I’m not especially interested in filling my closet with pleathery fast-fashion pieces that fall apart after a few wears. So what does a girl have to do to get some solid non-leather shoes around here? Consider a pair of high-fashion jellies.  For the last two summers, I’ve lived in a pair of black Melissa x Jason Wu “Artemis” sandals, and I’ve gotten compliments on them in Hawaii, Istanbul …

A Love Affair with Blundstones

When you work long days that merge into nights, running around, climbing up and down ladders and scurrying over catwalks, your shoes swiftly become your best friends. Freshly graduated from the University of New South Wales, a Bachelor of Arts degree under my belt, my dreams of working in the theater were giddily realized after I miraculously landed a gig as a lighting technician at the Sydney Opera House. This was 1984 and the joint had only been open for a dozen years. There were old-ish guys that worked backstage who proudly boasted they’d helped to build the place! I was the third female ever to be hired in the lighting department. We were all called “sparks” or “electrics.” The stagehands were known as “mechanists” and they were a bigger and more dominant crew. I only ever saw one woman in their numbers. I was a green and keen kid — 20, almost 21 — and utterly thrilled to be working on real live proper theater. Operas, concerts, ballet, rigging lights in the Exhibition Hall …

Margit’s Note: Well-Heeled

Earlier this year, at the South by Southwest festival, I witnessed a friendly debate between two rock star science and tech leaders…  over high heels. “What shoes would Steve Jobs wear? … We need to give women permission not to give a shit,” said Lindsey Shepard, VP of Sales and Marketing for of GoldieBlox. Mae Jemison, the first African American astronaut countered, “Hey I love my heels… Why do we put things in the context of men? When do we get to determine the standard of behavior?” Okay, so the panel had nothing to so with shoes; it was about “Diversity in STEM” and 90% of the discussion focused on how to coax more women to become engineers or scientists. Still, this moment struck me. Even the most brilliant minds care about footwear — because it makes us feel and look good (yes, rare that the two align) as we code, as we give a talk, as we walk a mile. And at this point in our lives, we’ve had a handful of decades worth of footwear …

Unlikely Treasures: A Few of Our Favorite Things

Here at TueNight HQ, we all share a bit of an obsession with stuff. Lovely stuff, ephemeral stuff, goofy stuff, that we pile and store and cherish. Old magazines, beautiful shoes, nostalgic action figures, scraps of meaningful scribbles. Maybe we’re all just weird and that’s why we work together, but I think there’s something about our generation (Xish, we like to say), that’s wont to hang on versus let go. Even while we become more virtual and cloud-y (as of last weekend my CDs no longer exist in their jewel cases; next step, digitize!) we still have trouble tossing the mementos. Curators, collectors, packrats, call us what you will, but we treasure our unlikely treasures. Here are just a few: MARGIT MoMA Bubble Necklace A present from my husband. If I could wear this necklace every day, I would. Cowboy Boots I’m no cowgirl, in fact I’m a bit a-feared of cows. But I do have a mini collection of cowboy boots from Austin, TX. Austin was one of the first “work” trips I took as a …