Springtime in New York

Maybe it's arrogant, but I can't help it. It happens every year. Spring makes me feel bad for anyone who doesn't live in New York. Right now, the city is at its absolute best. It's gorgeous out, the weather is perfect, the flowers are in bloom.

And I know some of you (Polly) will brag that you always have nice weather, but I truly believe that this is still better. Because we appreciate it more. After another long, cold, snowy winter (okay, not so snowy this year, but whatever), we have EARNED the spring. We're all so grateful for the warmth and the sun that everyone's a little nicer, a little happier, a little more alive.

I wanted to be outside on Saturday, but didn't want to have to go somewhere (Oh, how I wish I had a backyard), so I got my first pedicure of the season, threw on some flip flops, and just wandered around my neighborhood like a homeless person. I walked aimlessly, stopping into stores where I didn't buy anything, window shopped. It was lovely.

I've already had my first margarita at the restuarant with the best outdoor seating. (When in doubt, if it's between the months of April and October and you can't find me, check there.) And today, I got to wear the favorite of all Bookgirl wardrobe items--open-toed shoes. Sigh. My little toesies were so happy to be free again. It's good to be me this week, my friends. Very, very good to be me.



p.s. Liz, I know how happy the view from my office makes you, so I took the photo from a different angle today so you could see a little of Times Square. Who loves ya, baby?

p.p.s. I know there hasn't been a Weight Watchers update in months, but that's because the numbers were going in the wrong direction. Not exactly brag-worthy. But I weighed in today for the first time in a couple of weeks and lost 4.8 pounds. Did I mention how much I love spring?!?!?

Shoe Slut

These shoes were part of my "new job" purchases when I started this job. Not because I needed new shoes for work, but because my default reaction to any situation in which I get a new job or a promotion is "buy shoes." Of course that's also my reaction to happy news, sad news, a bonus, and my tax return. But that's another story.

Now, I know what you're wondering. "How many pairs of pink shoes can one girl own?" and "Are those even comfortable?" And the answer is more pairs than I'm comfortable admitting to publicly. And no, not even a little bit. They hurt like a bitch, almost to the point of tears. I can only wear them to work, and even then sometimes not the whole day. But as long as I don't limp, I sure do look cute.

Shoe Slut

It was raining when I left this morning, so I got to wear the pretty new boots I got for Christmas. I've been wanting a pair of rain boots for forever. Walking to work in the morning in the rain, my feet get wet, and then I have damp socks the rest of the day. Ick.

I've been looking at and trying on boots for more than a year. But there were, of course, very strict requirements. I know you're shocked. They had to be fun and colorful and pretty. There was the money issue--I couldn't bring myself to spend a lot of money on a pair of boots I wasn't going to get to wear that often. And after I found pairs I liked and that suited my thriftiness (I get weirdly cheap about some purchases--this was one of them) I had some serious Goldilocks syndrome going on. Every pair I tried on was too big or too small, too soft or too hard (okay, not really, but I had to extend the analogy).

My niece found these and sold them to my mom as part of my Christmas present. And they were just right.

p.s. I know the background looks like a cheesy photographer's backdrop, but it's actually the view from my office at night. Or, you know, any time after 4:00 in winter...

Shoe Slut

I've been looking all over for the perfect pair of close-toed black shoes. I was wearing my sandals up until 2 weeks ago, and it was time to transition.

There was a long list of requirements to qualify a pair of shoes as The Shoes. They had to be cute, and versatile enough to go with pants or casual skirts. I wanted a chunky heel, so I can walk down the street without having to do the subway grate avoidance dance to not get my heel caught. They need to be comfortable enough that I can stand on my feet all night. I love a Mary Jane-style shoe, so I was looking for something with a strap or buckle on top. Everything I tried on was too expensive or uncomfortable, or too high a heel. So imagine my excitement when I found these. They were EXACTLY what I wanted. You know where I found them? In my office, underneath my desk. I bought them last winter and left them there over the summer.

I think I might officially have a problem.

Shoe Slut

Behold today's shoes. They're another vacation purchase. I picked them up in Florida when we did a girls' trip to my friend's house on Marco Island for her birthday one year. (I'd tell you which birthday, but it dates me.)

I love them. But they rub in the exact same spot as yesterday's shoes, leaving me in so much pain that I was reduced, when no one was looking, to hobbling along like I was crippled. On my floor, I just kicked them off and walked around barefoot. But when I had to travel for meetings, I was screwed. While yes, I do have seventeen other pairs under my desk, none of them matched. And well, you know how I feel about matching. In the interest of full disclosure, there actually was one pair that matched perfectly, but they were the square-toed loafer variety that is only acceptable under pants. With a dress they make me look Amish. Also, they make my calves look fat. My lower legs are the only thin body part I possess. I try not to mess with that.

I have a launch party tonight for the new Gawker book. Which left me with a difficult decision. Either skip the party, go with the thick-calved Amish look, or run out and buy a new pair to wear. The choice was clear. An excuse to go shoe-shopping!! Yes!!The new pair are fabulous. I'd show them to you, but then I'd lose a quickie blog topic for another day. And why make more work for myself?

But wait! There's more! While I was in the store, I got to do a good deed. I was trying on this lovely pair of patterned pumps when the woman next to me started squealing over them. We were the same size, so I let her try them on while her salesperson was busy. Then came the news. They were the last pair in our size. She gave them back, albeit reluctantly, because by all rules of shopping etiquette they were mine. And I let her buy them. Yes, I did a shoe mitzvah. My mom would be so proud, if she knew what a mitzvah was.

p.s. They were on sale, too. That has to earn me extra good person points, right??

Shoe Slut

Today's shoes are possibly my very favorite pair. The day I bought them, my sister Celeste declared them "the ugliest shoes she's ever seen." Hmph. Her taste has been suspect ever since, as far as I'm concerned.




p.s. One more funny Ella story from this weekend. I was undressing to take a shower, and Ella insisted on coming in the bathroom with me. She stared at me for a second, then stared down at herself and said, "I have little boobies." Then when I turned around to get in the shower, she spotted my tattoo. I have a tiny little red heart on my butt, just like a Care Bear does.
(Sorry for the blurriness. Have you ever tried to take a picture of your own butt?? Not easy, I tell you.) "Hey!" she asked me, "where'd you get the sticker??"

Shoe Slut

The Shoe Slut feature was conceived entirely as a vehicle for me to show off this new pair of shoes. They’ve been in my apartment, waiting patiently for a day that felt fall-like enough for me to wear them. Today was that day. (Actually, yesterday was, but the shoes got trumped by my Weight Watchers milestone. I love the shoes, but all I had to do was plunk down my debit card for them. I EARNED the fifteen pounds.)

I had gone into my favorite outlet store, the only place I’ll buy gym socks because they have the perfect blend of function, comfort, and cute little embroidered designs. You didn’t expect me to work out in plain white socks, did you? While I was there I decided to breeze through the shoe section, and there they were. They were calling my name. Polly can vouch. She was on the phone with me at the time, and I spoke about them in a voice I normally reserve for Lindt truffles and muscular bald men. They didn’t have my size, and I was about to leave disappointed when I saw one pair mis-shelved. It was clear. God wanted me to have these shoes. I put them on, and that was it. They made me feel sexy and pretty and feminine. And they hardly hurt at all, which given my tendency to choose style over comfort is pretty much a slam dunk.

I wore them with all black, naturally, and kept popping into other women’s offices to show them off. The beauty of working in marketing is that my coworkers can really appreciate an accessory. One friend even asked to touch them. Now that’s a sign of a good shoe.

p.s. I took the picture in my office window so you could see part of my view. In case you were beginning to wonder if I was lying and really blogging from like Omaha or something.

Shoe Slut 2

I love today's shoes. And what's more, they're a source of a good memory. Diosa and our friend Amy, with whom we've been friends since the second or third grade, came to New York to spend a weekend with me. We saw Sweet Charity on Broadway and went to nice restaurants and wandered around the city. And Amy was pregnant at the time, which made it all the more special. We had one of those perfect girls' weekends, the kind that just make me feel lucky to be me. And in some teeny little shoe store in Chelsea, I found these shoes. I love pink. I love flowered anything. I love shoes. It's like the perfect storm.

p.s. I was going to crop out the background, but since you've all heard stories about what a train wreck my office is, I decided to leave it in so you knew I wasn't exxagerating. Also, to make you feel better in case you were beginning to worry I was perfect. (Stop giggling!!!) My boss came into my office when I got back from vacation and said, "I thought something wasn't right. I could see the carpet in here. But then someone reminded me that you were away and had shipped out all the books before you left. That made more sense." Thanks, Mr. Bossman.

Shoe Slut

I'm in sales conference this week presenting my spring 08 list and have 2.2 seconds to myself. I figure if you're the kind of person who reads my blog, there's a good chance you also share my affinity for/obsession with shoes. So I'm starting what might become a semi-regular feature, depending on popular reaction: Shoe Slut; Pictures of the Fabulous Shoes I'm Wearing Today So You Can All be Appreciative and Jealous. Eat your hearts out.