Books. Bikes. Boomsticks.
Mind the sword, mind the people watch, mind the enemy...too many mind. No mind.
Sleep is very overrated. Regards,Rabbit.
At least you don't have to wear those shoes at 0420.When the old Australian station man came in to trade his Rolls, and was shown the new model without running-boards, he said "Where d'ya put the bluidy dead sheep?"You wear those boots in Texas, and you'll always have horseshit on your stirrups. So to speak.
When I get these 'vogs (sometime in the next couple weeks), you'll hear howling and crowing from the general direction of Texas. I guarantee it.
I've decided to live out my shoe fantasies vicariously through phlegmmy.
How could you not love them? They're retro-hip-modern Fluevogs! [Comatus, tread thou carefully. :) Y'may be a bit out of your depth]. Phlegmme is gonna be the shoe-buying death of me yet. Dad-rat it, I had scaled back to trainers, 'cycle boots and one pair of okay heels for the rare Social Event, and then she had to go posting links to The Kewlest Shoemaker Ever. It's so unfair! ;) Oh, throw me that briar patch!
Over 50 pairs, hun, and I'm not bullshitting about the horseshit, either. You go ahead on with high heels if you think you need to, but those right there, you're going to be unlacing outside on the door-stoop every damn time. When you have to clean a shoe with your finger, it spoils your nails for the rest of the evening.
I'll gladly don the shoe-proxy mantle for you wonderful people, and I'll also be doing it for the children. The fate of the world depends on me. I'm lubricating the economy and keeping it a happy camper.Tell ya what, comatus: I'll just be careful where I step in those. No finger shenanigans will be required, as I'll ride my broom right up to the stoop.
"The Kewlest Shoemaker Ever."What did you expect from the Kewlest city in the world? I was walking down the street one day, near the Fluevog store, when I saw a guy smoking a joint. A cop also saw him, walked right up to him and said, in a firm voice, "Put that out".I miss Vancouver so much, best sushi, best gyoza... (sigh)
Comatus, at my altitude, I need heels like I need the flu. But I own 'em, in varying hights right up to "stupid." All boxed up in the attic, relics of a patrty-girl youth and early adulthood spent clawing up to management. Here's a neat hint: if I'm a-wearing shoes like that, I'm not going to be walking in mud. Not. Ever. That's what parking-lot-to-office shoes are for, not to mention valet parking and being dropped off at the front door of [Generic Fancy Nightspot] by your date. ...Gee, I still don't miss those days....
Well sure Roberta, so do I (in my fashion, Cynara); I only go over 6'2 with a little help from Wesco. We'll probably entertainingly discuss social aspects of high-heeledness some other time.I'm talking engineering here. The intrusion angle of the heel cutaway on that particular shoe not only precludes any self-cleaning aspect, but puts the wearer's weight and stature in the submission mode. You don't leave home planning to be in the company of the kind of person who finds that attractive ("walking in mud"). But it happens. I wouldn't put the whole world in running shoes (though a good boot is the race's noblest achievement); Comatus does not run. But in those dern things [if they made them in 12AA] I wouldn't be able to adopt a proper shooting stance either. I'll pick on Marko while he's off-line and say, "Here I stand."
No. Not gonna."I will not argue shoes with the male of the species...""I will not argue shoes with the male of the species...""I will not argue shoes with the male of the species...""I will not argue shoes with the male of the species..." (...increment to 100...)
In the words of the Author, "How the f$ck did you get that out of my post?" There's not a word of male in it. Ref, calling foul here.
You mean...you're really Comata? Push me over with a feather.
Who was that Polack chick who said "Mind knows no sex?" Oh, yeah, Marie Curie.
http://kimy5.files.wordpress.com/2007/02/marie-curie-pic.jpgAnd here's Sklodowska now, in sensible shoes (and only using one leg). She was trained as a cobbler; just imagine the mahvelous come-fuck-me boots you could have if she'd stayed with her trade instead of playing with, you know, electrons and stuff.
...No, seriously, Comatus: the mind may know no sex (poor lonely unotuched mind!), but the shoe thing is cultural an' if you didn't pick it up early, it's not gonna make sense to you: you'll be talkin' about the locomotive's top speed while us'n's are admiring the brightwork. It wasn't Curie but another well-known woman of about the same time who implied, "The dickens with your revolution if I can't dance!"
At this point I would like to state that I am thoroughly confused, but also entertained, albeit in a confused sort of way.
(see shoehorse credentials above)A lot of things are 'cultural.' Genital mutilation is cultural. So's "kindern, kuchern, kirche," and you've really got to pick that one up early. While you're admiring the brightwork, you might just check to see if the driving rods are bolted to the wheels--because you can't dance in these. These shoes are what happened to Emma at the corset shop: a kind of attentat of the sole.I'm a shoe fan, not a foot-binder. You wouldn't want to see an MGB made into a circus clown car with a Chinese chassis (come to think of it, that's about how they ended up, innit). The retrograde heel is a highly personal statement of self-imposed immobility and helplessness. Emma F& Peel couldn't bring the heat in those.
They're not that retrograde, Comatus. Let's wait for Phlegmmy's field report, shall we?
Paved, swept and shoveled and secured field, presumably.
comatus - you left out the valet-parking-for-me-broom bit of the field. I must say this entire exchange has somehow gone wobbly. I like it, but it's a tad off.In 20 or so years of wearing 'vogs varying in height from 1 to 5 inches, they have ever been the models of comfort and ease of wear. Hell, baby, I'm in my 40s now and I want to look good, but life's too short for foot pain, so I don't even bother with cheap, uncomfortable shoes. This is one reason why I pony up the extra dosh for well-crafted shoes - I have to rent out apartments that cost thousands of dollars a month to well-heeled clientele - shabby simply will not cut the mustard in my profession. That said, I walk up and down a fairly dramatic grade on property, and I must be focused - when I'm selling, I can't be distracted by physical discomforts. The fact is, I'd prefer to buy 4 pairs of shoes per year that cost $250+ each, than 20 pair at $50 each that I'd liken to hair shirts, balaclavas and iron maidens. I spend money on quality, I take care of them, and they last me for years. However, don't assume I don't have footwear for the mucky occasions -- I do. I simply happen not to work around mucky areas. I don't think that's a crime.I admit my shoe thing is an indulgence and there's nought of great nobility in footwear obsession, but neither do I see the harm in taking delight in such animal pleasures. It is a physical impossibility for everyone to devote themselves to the noble pursuits of life such as curing cancer or discovering radium-- someone has to produce shoes and widgets and keep lowly combustion engines working and perform the mind-crushing banalities that keep the mail moving and all that shit that makes society run. What is so dad-burned ignoble about celebrating a whimsical and delightful pair of shoes, even if it does throw my spine out of alignment, thus accentuating my magnificent form? What is so terrible about that? As for bringing the heat, I admit it's my own offbeat variety and not suited to every palate, but it comes with me everywhere I go, and in my book, it's hot enough. I'm pleased women whose opinions I value admire these soon-to-be-mine witchy bootlets. Chacun à son goût.
You're not arguing against my argument, you're tilting at a straw man. As has been said several times, men are not welcome. That's fun, I guess. It's "cultural"! And I'll certainly have it firmly in mind next time I'm asked to help women 'refuse to be victims.' De gustibus, vel penuriae gustum.
Oh. I thought I was just tilting because of that nasty intrusion angle of the heel cutaway. Sorry you don't like my shoes, but I do think you're fun.
It's not that you're unwelcome, Comatus; it's -- look, unless someone has worn seriously non-tactical shoes, danced in the blame things, she or he's not gonna get it. There are men who might but it's a pretty specialized field of endeavor. Among other things, very high and/or retrograde heels are only a big problem if you're carrying a lot of weight on your heels. I can promise you -- and I was livin' the high life at a time when the stiletto heel was staging a comeback -- the first step you take in such shoes that lands heel-first is liable to be the last, too. The whole foot's got to hit as a unit. Yes, it's an unnatural gait (and multiply that by about ten for a high-arched barefoot Cherokee like me, who rolls her foot through every step). But done right, it's quite effective. (Can't recall ever having to buy my own drinks....) It's not a huge issue should things get a bit dicey and should they turn really bad, my shoes and feet will part company: stability and weaponry!
(Looks at the shoes, then shrugs)Very Victorian looking, but in an odd kinda way. Looks almost Steampunk or Retro Mad Scientist.
Yay, Steampunk! WOOHOO!
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