Toto, We’re NOT In Nordstrom Anymore…

Shhhh, don’t tell anyone.

I bought a pair of orthotic shoes last week.

It was a sad touchstone in my life. I have been a shoe freak since my first pair of brown and white saddle shoes, all the way to the latest adorable Tory Burch flats. Shoes don’t judge. You can be a size 8 or a size 16 and wear a fabulous pair of shoes and feel like a million bucks.

I had to break down and find some. With my recent jogging journey, coupled with my little tennis fantasy and the age of my high arched feet, I developed plantar fasciitis.

First, I thought it was just some temporary heel pain. But it went on for a couple of months. Then, in working at my little antique store one day in flip-flops ( a big no, no) I felt crippled in that foot and went straight to WebMD.

Bingo-Plantar Faciitis. The best part of the description was that it happens to athletic people. If you call running two minutes and walking one minute athletic, I’ll take it.

According to WebMD:
Plantar fasciitis (say “PLAN-ter fash-ee-EYE-tus”) is the most common cause of heel pain. The plantar fascia is the flat band of tissue (ligament) that connects your heel bone to your toes. It supports the arch of your foot. If you strain your plantar fascia, it gets weak, swollen, and irritated (inflamed). Then your heel or the bottom of your foot hurts when you stand or walk.

Plantar fasciitis is common in middle-aged people. It also occurs in younger people who are on their feet a lot, like athletes or soldiers. It can happen in one foot or both feet.

Plantar fasciitis is caused by straining the ligament that supports your arch. Repeated strain can cause tiny tears in the ligament. These can lead to pain and swelling. This is more likely to happen if:

Your feet roll inward too much when you walk (excessive pronation camera.gif).
You have high arches or flat feet.
You walk, stand, or run for long periods of time, especially on hard surfaces.
You are overweight.
You wear shoes that don’t fit well or are worn out.
You have tight Achilles tendons or calf muscles.

Most people with plantar fasciitis have pain when they take their first steps after they get out of bed or sit for a long time. You may have less stiffness and pain after you take a few steps. But your foot may hurt more as the day goes on. It may hurt the most when you climb stairs or after you stand for a long time

So off to the orthotic shoe store I went.

I mean seriously, these places need a HUGE makeover. I had to sign in and wait my turn behind an elderly gal getting those sexy black tennis shoes with the laces, and a 100-year-old cadaver couple arguing over which compression sock is the best. Toto, we’re not in Nordstrom anymore…

The selection was mediocre and the store gave me Buster Brown flashbacks from my youth. The saleslady was extremely helpful and I found a fairly cute pair of Vionic sandals that are so comfy on my feet. They aren’t Manolos but they will suffice.

Then I went on Zappos. The mother of all shoe sites. And there ARE cute orthotic shoes, THERE ARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I still refuse to give up my Tory’s or my Jack Rogers. In the future, when I wear those, Advil better be close by.

And an orthotic insert from Walmart…



Hot Flash Friday-A Frank Discussion About Underwear, If You Get in an Accident…

I have been in at least 3 car accidents. And never ONCE did the officer that arrived ask to see my underwear.



I have not been carted away by 911, but I am pretty sure that the last thing they are worried about is whether or not I have on a bra and underwear that are pretty, clean, or most of all, that match.

Paramedic:  “Um, excuse me ma’am. Do you have on matching underwear? Because if not, we are going to the aid of the person you backed in to here in the sex shop parking lot. Otherwise, we will get right to you.”

 I overheard some ladies talking recently about this issue at a retail store I frequent. The subject came up about matching shoes and handbags. And one gal stated, “That’s as bad as having on matching bra and panties, you are just ASKING for a car accident.

How did THAT comment get started? Was it different in the 1950-60’s that docs and nurses in the ER talked about our underwear while cutting them off and removing that windshield from our abdomen? Did they come home, have coffee over the fence with their neighbor and say, “You remember Gladys, right? Well, the other day she came into the hospital because she backed her Ford Thunderbird in to the Cleaver’s mailbox and honestly, I can NOT believe she had on old, holey, underwear! From Sears no less!”

So I did some crack investigative journalism and I polled (not scientific) some folks recently on my Facebook Page (please like me, I am insecure)and the response was overwhelming 70% NO match.

I have had an aversion to underwear, bras in particular since the 7th grade. My mother took me to Kmart and proceeded to buy me a training bra in the junior department. And then announce to the cashier that it was my first one. 

Kill. Me. Now.
Kill. Me. Now.

That’s thousands of therapy dollars right there folks.

What are you training them for? AP Biology? A triathlon?

Those first bras were padded with some kind of cotton contraption that felt like the crap in today’s maxi pads. And they didn’t fit well, and it looked like you had tumors under the polyester shirt you just proudly purchased from the Lemon Frog Shop at Sears.


Matching panties available? Nuh, uh. They were cotton jobs that were high-waisted and white. So, yes, I guess they matched. But in middle school in the 70s, that wasn’t what you were aiming for. Changing into blue bloomers for gym class was about as fun as a root canal.

My mother suggested once that I put ‘falsies’ in my bra. These were orange foam pads shaped like a boob. Just stick that sucker in your bra and VOILA, instant 34B!

Um, no. I KNOW these were the demise of my junior varsity cheerleading days when I performed a perfect Herkie jump at the ballgame and my new foam boobs were now perfectly OUT of alignment. In a stretchy gold turtleneck. For all to see.

So from my research, I think many of us have an aversion to nice underwear. Brought about by bad experiences in our younger years of being flat as a board, or well endowed at too early an age.

We have to wear it. It is a necessary evil. We tend to pull on whatever is clean, close by, and hanging on the nearest doorknob. And if it matches, great. If not, great.

With the advent of lingerie stores, one in particular….I believe we are creating a whole new generation of undie loving matchie matchie women. If VS was around when I was 15, my entire high school experience would have been waaaaaay different.

I  read recently that men think women that wear matching undies are sexy.  That women need to be more invested in their lingerie and wear the sexy and matching stuff more often. And I get that. Men are visual. But in my experience, all you had to do was flash part of a boob and you were DONE.  Because I could be wearing a bra made of duct tape and panties made of diapers and my husband would still jump my bones. If it takes that much to get a guy going, a lot of us gals wouldn’t be getting it.

Some of the best comments from my poll include:

·         Do you mean matching- as in, only the ones with holes are worn together?

·         Matching as in, I’m wearing both right now?

·         I’m lucky if my outer clothes match, much less my unders!

·         Almost never. When I do, it’s for the purpose of getting them taken off me quick, fast and in a hurry so there’s really no point.

·         Match? What’s that? As long as it fits and doesn’t have holes…

·         Yes, I have to admit I do. If I’m a leopard, I’m a leopard all the way! Especially for those “ahem” moments. It takes everything I’ve got to get their full attention! Just sayin!

·         Always! What if I’m in an accident and firemen have to cut off my clothes on the side of the road and I’m lying there in unsightly undergarments? I think this every morning of my life. Now that I think about it, that’s kinda sad…

·         I feel so good when my underwear matches…when i am in a bad mood i try to match my underwear…little mood picker upper…and when i was in my car accident when i was in high school…one of the very first questions i asked when i came to in the er was “what underwear did i have on?”

·         Panties? People still wear those?

·         As long as it fits, doesn’t ride up the crack of my ass and cut off my circulation, it gets put on my body. Only my teenage daughter has the fancy undergarments in this family! LOL

·         When I was in my bad wreck, the only sound that was intelligible that came out of my mouth….”I’ve got on clean underwear.’ My Mom was so proud! :-)))

I wonder if the perv factor was way higher in law enforcement and medicine then, than it is now for our mom’s to make sure we left the house in clean undies…


So you see, even if we have ‘underwear aversion’, every now and then it does feel great to match.

And, if it takes a little sexy lingerie to get some good jewelry I am ALL IN!

Did YOU Carry a John?

I have never seen something as simple as a handbag that can make a woman of a certain age stop, do a double take, and say, “Is THAT what I think it is??”

And I reply, “No, it’s LIKE what you think it is, a close copy, but unfortunately, not the real thing…”

And then I get the same comments over and over with such enthusiasm:

“I BEGGED my parents for one in high school!”

“All the girls had them, I had to baby sit for a year to afford one…”

“These bring back such memories!”

“And I carried it with my Aigner shoes, and had on my Villager dress, I was quite the 1970’s fashion statement…”

What am I talking about? A John Romain handbag of course.  In my other life, I am an organized hoarder – read antique and collectibles dealer – and have a booth at a large once a month market here in North Georgia, Lakewood 400.  I have been collecting vintage over the years, in particular English china, cream ware, ironstone, majolica,  mid-century tablecloths and vintage pins and necklaces.  If I could justify a way to become rich doing this I would.

In the last two years or so, I have also been collecting and selling vintage handbags. I love the old alligator bags, box-shaped handbags, and evening bags. I have always been obsessed with handbags, the epitome owning an Hermes Kelly bag  one day, or maybe just a nice Louis Vuitton.  I have found one or two John Romain bags and out of ALL of the comments I get on my handbags, these evoke the most emotion.

They were the It bags of the late 60’s and 70s. Well made of all-leather, leather and tweed or woven straw, they were the status symbols of the time. It has a shield symbol some of the time and you could order them with your initials in brass (you can still find them in thrift shops sometimes, but mostly on eBay and Etsy). This was one of the first times there was a desired brand name for teens and young women in the 70’s that they could kind of afford. Mostly popular with the preppy crowd, they were lusted over just like the teens lust for a Juicy Couture or Tory Burch bag today.

I understand the emotion. No matter what the era, there is always a symbol, brand, item that us girls always want to wear, carry or own. Go back through history and see what the trends were. Fans and corsets in the Victorian era, flapper dresses in the 20’s, poodle skirts in the 50’s, hippie couture in the 60’s and more.  So the fact that our teens want Juicy or Tory shouldn’t be a huge surprise.

Except the for the price. . .

Here’s the thing – handbags (and shoes) do not judge. You carry them on good days and bad days. Fat days and skinny days. They are that best friend that makes you happy all of the time. When you carry a loved handbag, especially with a terrific label, you feel great about yourself.

At least I do.

I never could afford a John. I did carry an Aigner after my first job in high school, then a Papagallo wooden bag with the interchangeable covers in college. With my Levi’s cords and my Earth Shoes. I was quite the fashionista of the late 70’s….

Let me know if you carried a John, or an Etienne, or, maybe today a Louis!





To Tat…or not to Tat….

A couple of years ago, my BFF in Dallas and I were discussing what we were going to do on our 50th birthdays, which were coming up in a couple of months. And, we came up with the idea of the purest form of rebellion for our age group-and a sure way to piss off our husbands.

Let’s get a TATTOOOOOOO!!

GOP, Dude! Source USA Today

So it was decided that we were going to meet and have a couple of glasses of wine. Then we were going to find a nice tattoo parlor and she and I were going to get cute little horseshoes tatted on our ass region as a shout out to the fact that we MADE it to 50, we were still married to the same guys, and that we are independent, but barely sober adults getting tattoos. We figured that later, in the nursing home when Gladys was changing our diapers, that it wouldn’t be that noticeable and maybe not too faded. I mean, what harm can this do?

Is it not enough that we wear clothes with labels on the outside (Tory, Kors, etc), handbags with LV’s and G’s and Baby Phat plastered on them, shoes with giant C’s on them, even underwear with messages like ‘Not Tonight’ plastered on the rear? Do we have to show to the world that we have just spent a ridiculous amount of money having a butterfly permanently inked on our lower back (tramp stamp) or better yet, a ‘Where’s Waldo’ tatted behind our ear?

Uh, ok… Source @The Secret to Humor is Surprise

Nope, not enough. 50 years ago, the tough dudes had MOM tatted on their arms and shoulders. Bikers had tattoos. Now it has become mainstream.


Even my 92 year old mother-in law said in a convo about this a couple of years ago that she had always wanted a little rose tattooed on her ankle. To which I pointed out to my uptight conservative hubs (BC) – SEE????

Why does the neo-conservative set (BC included) think it is so trashy? If they are not obnoxious, I think they can be cute. I mean, I could have a Lily Pulitzer type seahorse inked on my wrist and it would look so awesome with my multicolored bracelets and jewelry and shit. Hey-that’s an idea….

The tattoo shop near my home, in suburbia, no less, is really nice and upscale and probably over-priced. Even the artists in there have family pictures on their little cubby walls (How do I know this? I was talked in to an extra ear piercing by my teenager…). Did you ever think you would see the words upscale and tattoo parlor in the same sentence??? Anyway, they are next to a really cool martini bar. Maybe this was planned.

So, if me and BFF end up at the happy hour half priced martini bar when she comes to visit and then whip out our credit cards and drop trou at the parlor (darling) next door, I promise. I will post a picture…..