This weekend I will be leaving my lovelies and taking a bus to New York City where I will be attending what is sure to be a very posh wedding at a fancy hotel. The other evening, I was trying on some dresses from my old life while my husband was reading in bed. He looked up and said: “You need to do something about that farmer’s tan….you look like a country girl.” First of all, I prefer to think of it as a gardener’s tan. Second, that’s not what any woman wants to hear right before going heading to a swanky event in the big city.
I often feel a little bit like a bumpkin whenever I go back to the city where I lived for five years. It usually doesn’t bother me, but in this case, I’m a little anxious. The bride is a glamorous jetsetter, as are many of her acquaintances. The quality of my wardrobe has deteriorated rather sadly over the past eight years, and I refuse to spend a bunch of money on something I won’t wear again on a regular basis. Actually, despite my proverbially red neck, the dress isn’t really what’s bothering me. All things considered, I look pretty good for an old lady. I’ll pick something ancient (but cool) out of my closet, and I’ll totally rock it.
The shoes, for some reason, are presenting more of a crisis. (There’s apparently a lot of that going around. Loved this post from Northwest Mommy). My sister (who is very chic and has a job that allows her to spend a couple hundred bucks on a pair of shoes she’ll wear a handful of times) lent me a pair of gold Tory Burch platforms. But frankly I’m not sure I can handle them. I have been done with hot shoes for a long time. There’s just no room in my life for impractical footwear (stilettos don’t really mix with dirt roads and chasing chickens). I currently favor Dansko clogs, flip flops and my Le Chameaus. But even when I lived in the city, I wasn’t really the Jimmy Choo type. I once annoyed the hell out of a Parisian boyfriend by wearing Doc Martins to a fancy restaurant. In New York, I was always a mid-level wedge kind of gal. My aversion to height is partly because I’m tall and a little gawky–I still have trouble navigating in heels. I also absolutely hate my feet, which I can only describe as huge gunboats. My strategy has always been to avoid drawing attention to them–I’ve always been a little afraid that over-the-top shoes would make me look like a tranny.
Another thing is that I really like to walk. When I lived in New York, I used to keep a pair of Gazelles in my desk in case I decided I was in the mood for an after-work stroll (these came in super handy during the blackout of 03 when I had to walk from Midtown to Williamsburg). This brings up another point: wearing the platforms to the wedding would require me to take a cab both ways (I’m frugal and was hoping to take the subway–at least one-way– from Brooklyn). I’m afraid I’d twist my ankle or at the very least they’d make my back hurt. I have a feeling I’ll wind up choosing something a little more understated (although I may stick them in my suitcase just in case).