Redress

One of positive things about moving is coming across all of your old things.

Or, I should say, some of your old things.

I bought this darling dress at Anthropologie a few years ago- a beach scene with birds and the blue sky and blocks of orange. It was one of those times when everyone in the changing area told me I had to buy it- completely unsolicited. And trust me, I solicit. 

You know I love Marimekko and I was so happy to find this fun frock at the bottom of a storage bin this past weekend.  The weather has been very warm so last night we went for a long walk and I wore it with my new black patent leather flats, to make it feel less summery.

Anyone who knows me knows I am not a “flats” person.  After years in heels, I feel like I am falling backwards in flats, as Barbie would, dare this trend ever hit Mattel.  

I also get used to seeing people at a certain eye level.  


While I love high heels, I have been forced to accept that they are not always practical with an infant, let alone a toddler.  A low heel, or, even better, wedge, is my ideal daytime shoe but attractive versions are hard to find.  

So I bit the bullet when I saw this shiny black pair at Target about a month ago.  I am a sucker for black patent leather shoes (so durable!) and I figured this could be a good test for running around the Merchandise Mart and the park.  Verdict- iffy.   They were digging into my ankles within steps of my front door.  Not a good sign.  Oh, and a brief scan online suggests I am not the only remorseful buyer.  Perhaps they are a size too small? Perhaps this is what I should expect of fifteen dollar shoes?  Perhaps this is how they all feel- and the pain will go away?  Will have to consult my friend with a serious black-pat-flat fetish who swears by these pricey little slips of cinched shiny leather.  

33 pairs of my new flats = 1 pair of Lanvin's, available here.  

I don't dare question their value. 

I was in New York a few years ago in a cab heading down Park Avenue when a woman pulled up along side me wearing my same dress, with the sashes tied smartly like an obi, in aviator glasses with her hair pulled loosely back, riding an orange Vespa.

It was perfection. 

And like that she zoomed off, disappearing into the cars ahead of us.

Xox,

Jenny