The Kinky Boots Effect

August, 29, 2013 – The Kinky Boots Effect

What’s happening to me?  I woke up thinking about shoes, specifically gorgeous fashionable shoes.  Call it the Kinky Boots Effect.  In the war between Stylish and Sensible, I’d always been firmly in the Sensible camp.  That is, until shortly after I saw the musical Kinky Boots in New York.  It must have awakened my inner vamp, the hidden side of me that was buried deep under decades-old layers of practicality.  I’d always self-righteously disapproved of girls (women, I should say) teetering around on high heels.  And I’d always felt that since my legs aren’t my best feature, I should stay away from attention-getting footwear.  Thus, flat and nondescript became my automatic shoe choice.  But when I think back to that magical performance of Kinky Boots, where all shapes and sizes of women – and men – exuberantly showed their zest for life by parading around in red-sequined thigh-high stiletto-heeled boots, the wedding shoes I purchased a couple of days ago seem tame by comparison.  Now I’m sorely tempted to go back to DSW and get those alluring black patent peep toes I saw later that day.  Yes, I can’t stop thinking about them.  And I wonder if, just to put an end to this new obsession, I should go out and buy the darn shoes today.  After all, they’re only $30.  I’d be willing to flush thirty dollars down the toilet if it would cure this Kinky Boots mania.  It would be easier (and better for the plumbing) if I just went over to DSW as soon as they open today.  And if the checkout person gives me a strange look (as if to say, “what’s that old lady doing with these shoes???”), well, I’ll just smile my brightest smile. 

Shoes Make the Woman

August 27, 2013 – Shoes Make the Woman

Clothes may make the man, but shoes make the woman.  Thus, I’ve been in a bit of a quandary since my weekly phone conversation with my friend Lynda.  Lynda, who has known me since 7^th grade, bluntly informed me that I need to get a new pair of shoes to go with the midnight blue evening gown that I’m wearing to Elisa’s wedding.  I was really caught off guard because the previous week, when I’d seen Lynda in New York, she hadn’t responded to my casual comment that I’d be wearing my black leather pumps to the wedding.  After all, it’s a long dress, so how much of my shoes will be visible anyway?  And it’s not as if I proposed wearing my hiking shoes or my Teva sandals.

But Lynda’s remark got me thinking.  When I spoke to Elisa a few days ago, I mentioned Lynda’s concern about my shoes, naively expecting Elisa to tell me that my black pumps would be just fine.  Instead, she concurred with Lynda.  So, rather than ruin my daughter’s wedding by commiting a grievous fashion faux pas, I resolved to find a pair of “appropriate” shoes, i.e. formal, dressy shoes with plenty of sparkle, and with heels higher than (gulp) an inch or two.  It would also be nice if they were comfortable, but comfort is obviously low on the priority list.

So here’s the result of today’s shopping foray at the mall:  

 

Sparkle?  Check.  High enough heels?  Check.  Comfort?  Well, that’s a relative term.  These shoes clearly will not rival the comfort of my everyday footwear.  But as long as I can walk a few steps in them without toppling over, I’m willing to risk it. 

I hate to admit it, but once I tried them on, I actually liked the new look.  In fact, I made a second shopping trip today, this time to the local DSW where I promptly had an identity crisis after I tried on a pair of killer black patent leather platform peep toes with heels even higher than the ones I bought earlier today.  The problem is, the shoes looked good, very good – but would I actually dare to wear them in public?  Probably, if I were forty years younger, I wouldn’t have hesitated.  Or if I were considering a new career in street-walking. 

Yet, it wasn’t an easy decision to make.  Unwilling to take the shoes off, I kept parading around in them, checking my reflection in the foot level mirrors.  Should I buy them, or not?  Part of me said yes, and they were even on sale, such a bargain.  I could picture myself walking into the Kennedy Center or to a restaurant in New York in them.  I could also picture myself twisting my ankle and ending up on crutches for a few months.  Ouch!  So much for the trendy new me.  Yet, on the other hand, I wasn’t quite ready to give up the fantasy.  If I bought these shoes and they just sat in my closet, would it be such a tragedy? In the end, though, I decided to defer the final judgment.  With a certain reluctance, I slipped the shoes back into their box and walked away from them (in my super comfortable flat Ecco sandals). 

But DSW is just a few minutes from home, and there’s always tomorrow.  

Summer's End

August 25, 2013 – Summer’s End

The GMU fall semester starts tomorrow.  Teachers in FCPS report back tomorrow.  Wow, it didn’t hit me until this morning that summer break is just about over.  I wasn’t counting down the days, as I’ve done in years past.  Perhaps this is a sign of progress.  As I settle more and more into retirement, the academic schedule is loosening its hold on my psyche.  However, I’m truly excited about the upcoming class that I’ll be auditing at George Mason: Topics in 20^th Century American Art.  The professor has already posted the syllabus and I see that we’ll be focusing on the first four decades.  Among the artists we’ll be studying are John Marin, Edward Hopper, Georgia O’Keeffe, Edward Steichen and Alfred Stieglitz.  I always get Steichen and Stieglitz mixed up.  Both were photographers, both had galleries, but only one of them was married to Georgia O’Keeffe – and I never remember which one. 

This class promises to be a perfect blend of my dual interests in art and history.  It covers some fascinating times in U.S. history (Ragtime at the turn of the century, World War I, the Jazz Age in the 20s, the Depression years in the 30s), which I always enjoyed teaching to my ESOL students.  We’re even going to be reading and watching The Great Gatsby to gain a better understanding of the era.  I can hardly wait for class to begin. 

This has been a wonderful summer break, and Washington Summer Restaurant Week helped make this final week especially festive.  Three lunches out in four days!  Rasika West, sibling restaurant of the original Rasika, lived up to my expectations with its creative take on Indian cuisine.  Don’t miss the crispy spinach chaat, with its incredible combination of flavors and textures.  And the mango shortcake was pretty special, too.  Le MediterraneanBistro, a new French-Moroccan restaurant in Fairfax City, showed promise with its robust approach to familiar favorites.  And finally, I got a chance to try Wolfgang Puck’s Asian-inspired fare at The Source.  The velvety corn soup with tiny shrimp dumplings was delightful.  But the highlight had to be dessert.  Their carrot cake (15 layers!) was simply the best I’ve ever eaten, light and subtly flavored with a variety of spices, served with a scoop of ginger ice cream. 

Spinach chaat at Rasika West

Elliott digs into steak frites at Le Mediterranean Bistro.

Enjoying DC Restaurant Week in Fairfax City

Without a doubt, the world's best carrot cake, at The Source

I spent most of this last day of summer break outdoors to take advantage of the beautiful un-August-like weather.  First, I took a late morning hike across the Key Bridge with Marshall and my friend Cheri, followed by lunch at Tackle Box (mmm, grilled squid and fried green tomatoes) in Georgetown, and then window-shopping along M Street and Wisconsin Avenue before walking back across the bridge to Arlington.  Marshall was marveling at the cloud formations.  According to Marshall, who lived in California for 30 years before moving back to the DC area last February, you don’t see clouds in the sky on the West Coast.  I guess it’s either solid blue or solid gray, something I never would have imagined.  It gave me a new appreciation for the constantly changing vistas in our skies.  

Lunch at Tackle Box in Georgetown

The Potomac looking north from the Key Bridge

Kayaks at the boat house on the Potomac in Georgetown

 

Elliott kept himself busy this weekend with a new mini-project, i.e. hacking apart an old office worktable that we’re discarding.  It was a monster of a piece of furniture, unbelievably heavy as well as hideous-looking, that he had originally gotten at a government warehouse sale.  Rather than just putting the intact worktable out for the trash collectors (or for anyone else who wanted to pick it up), he decided to cut it into pieces.  First he removed the top from the legs.  He spent most of Saturday in the backyard trying to saw through or break apart the desktop.  He tried a variety of tools without any luck.  There seemed to be a layer of some impervious material bonded to the surface of the top.  So he decided to soak it in a homemade bathtub that he built in the backyard to see if that would loosen the top.  It didn’t.  Next, he went off in search of power tools he could borrow.  Finally, on Sunday, with the help of one of neighbors, Elliott triumphed over the desktop!  The dismembered top now sits forlornly on the side of the street, awaiting Tuesday’s trash collection.  But most importantly, this activity kept him outdoors and occupied for a good part of the weekend. 

Girls in the City

Girls in the City

Caveat:  This is a long post!  

 

I recently returned from a “girlfriends” trip to New York City.  For five glorious days, my friend Gale and I camped out in The Village, i.e. Greenwich Village, a neighborhood filled with nostalgia for both of us.  During my high school years, I spent many Saturdays and Sundays lounging around the fountain in Washington Square Park, that dangerous haven of hippiedom in the 1960s.  Just an hour’s ride on the Long Island Railroad, and I was free of the confines of suburban safety – free to commune with long-haired strangers of the male persuasion; free to lose myself in the sound of drums and guitars and flapping of pigeons’ wings; free to gulp the clouds of hazy fragrant smoke that peppered the air; free to imagine a life where I could engage in the kind of behavior that would horrify my parents.  

Washington Square Park

 Gale, who grew up in Queens, can recall similar times.  On this trip, we walked down familiar memory-laden streets – Macdougal, Bleeker, West Fourth – but experienced The Village in a new way.  Instead of roughing it, we stayed in the Washington Square Hotel, a lovely boutique property on Waverly Place.  On our first evening, we dined at Perilla, a fine restaurant a few blocks west of our hotel.  I definitely like this Greenwich Village as much, if not more, than the Greenwich Village of my teenage years.  

Some things, however, never change.  The subway station at West Fourth Street is just one example.  There’s a certain quality to the air in the underground stations that is impossible to duplicate elsewhere.  It’s one of those memory triggers for me.  As soon as I breathe that air, I know I’m back in my hometown.  Of course, the grimy subway tokens of earlier years have been replaced by flimsy plastic cards.  Having my own subway card (and knowing how to refill it) helps me imagine that I’m a real New Yorker again.  

Anyway, as much as I love The Village, I didn’t spend all of my time there.  On our first morning in the city, Gale and I took a short subway ride to Brooklyn, to explore the neighborhood where Elisa and Christian will be married in November.  It was perfect walking weather – sunny and not too hot or humid – for a stroll down Smith Street to Union Street, where we were able to take a peek inside the Green Building, the venue of the upcoming wedding.  At a little shop on Smith Street, I found a bracelet (glittery, but not overly showy) to wear with my MOB (mother of the bride) dress.  On Court Street, we stopped for an al fresco lunch of superb pizza and salad at a little Italian restaurant, Enoteca on Court, and then a quick dessert at The Chocolate Room.  I could actually see myself living in this neighborhood.  

Pizza at Enoteca on Court (Brooklyn)

 Late on Thursday afternoon, we headed up to the Times Square area for a totally different side of New York.  Although this isn’t my favorite part of the city, we had tickets for a 7 p.m. performance of Kinky Boots, a Tony Award winning musical.  Not surprisingly, as soon as we exited from the subway station, we found ourselves packed into a crowd of people (primarily tourists) jammed together on the sidewalk.  I immediately had to suppress feelings of claustrophobia.  After making our way north a few blocks, we were able to escape into the tranquility of BlueFin, where we had a reservation for a pre-theater dinner.  I ordered their signature cocktail (the color of the Caribbean) to erase the lingering effects of the Times Square crush.  Although the restaurant offered a special Restaurant Week menu, we opted to create our own tasting menu of five small dishes:  shrimp and lobster spring rolls, shrimp dumplings, shrimp lettuce wraps (have you noticed a theme here?), red beet and goat cheese salad, and lemon-herb gnocchi with mushrooms and peas.  All delicious.  

The signature cocktail at Blue Fin (there's a red Swedish fish swimming in it)

Our feast at Blue Fin in Times Square

 The show, Kinky Boots, was energetic and uplifting, with knockout performances, especially by Billy Porter, playing a drag queen.  I don’t know how he managed to dance in those 6-inch high spike heels.  Afterwards, we stopped at the nearby Junior’s restaurant, crowded with other theater patrons, for coffee and their famous cheesecake.  The cheesecake itself was good, but I was disappointed that the fresh strawberries were masked in a thick sweet glop that I had to scrape off.  In the dark, Times Square is a much more attractive place.   In fact, I found all the dazzling colored lights quite mesmerizing.  It was nearly midnight when we returned to the hotel, and I wasn’t feeling a bit tired.  It must have been the New York effect. 

On Friday, the fine weather continued and we set out after breakfast for a day of walking.  Thanks to Gale, I discovered a couple of very interesting stores, both on Broadway around 19^th.  Fishs Eddy has unique items for kitchens.  And ABC Carpet and Home is much, much more than a place to buy rugs.  It’s an amazing emporium of clothing, jewelry, furniture and housewares from around the world.  (Think a very upscale Pier One or World Market).   

So many tempting items at ABC Carpet & Home

Afterwards, I made a quick foray across town, stopped at the big Macy’s in Herald Square and managed not to get lost inside the store, and then back to the East Side to meet up with Gale and a friend of hers for lunch at Franchia, a vegan paradise with an Asian accent on Park Avenue.  

Cantonese rice noodles with "shrimp" at Franchia Vegan Cafe

Our Friday evening activity was dinner with Elisa and Christian.  My brother and sister-in-law came down from Westchester to meet all of us at the restaurant I’d chosen for our get-together.  Osteria Laguna, which specializes in Venetian cuisine, was just a short walk from Grand Central Terminal.  We spent a couple of hours sharing good food (including salmon and goat cheese stuffed ravioli), a bottle of Italian wine, and a luscious dessert – ice-cream filled profiteroles drizzled with dark chocolate sauce.  All in all, another completely satisfying meal.

 

At Osteria Laguna (photo taken by Gale)

 The original reason for this trip to New York was to meet up with two dear childhood friends on Saturday.  Lynda took the train down from New Haven and Audrey took the train in from Long Island.  Lynda and I took a leisurely hike up Madison Avenue from 42^nd Street all the way to the mid-70s.  There was so much to see along the way that I didn’t even notice that I was racking up the miles.  Our mutual Audrey met us for lunch at Atlantic Grill on Third Avenue.  Audrey is my former piano teacher from West Hempstead.  She still teaches and performs, looks decades younger than her eighty-something years, and comes into the city frequently to attend concerts, opera and ballet performances.  On Saturday afternoon, she was showing off her newly painted turquoise pedicure.  After lunch, the three of us walked over to Fifth Avenue to see the Austrian and German art at the Neue Gallerie.  Since I’d recently read The Lady in Gold, I was especially interested in seeing Gustav Klimt’s stunning portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer.  We stopped for Viennese coffee and sachertorte in the museum’s café before we parted ways.  

Sachertorte (with 3 forks) and Viennese coffee at the Neue Gallerie's cafe

 Also on Saturday, Gale and I whiled away an hour or so of the late afternoon sitting on the shady bench in Washington Square Park before walking over to the East Village to meet up with Elisa and Christian.  Together we walked back to the Lower East Side and had an impromptu gin tasting (3 different brands) at E&C’s apartment.  Then it was time to make the next big decision, i.e. where to eat dinner.  Fortunately, Elisa and Christian are just as fanatical about food as I am!  We ended up dining outdoors at Banjara on Curry Row, the block of 6^th Street between First Avenue and Second Avenue that got its nickname from the preponderance of Indian restaurants.  I’m always happy to eat Indian food.  We had some marvelous vegetarian dishes, most memorably coconut stuffed samosas.  Afterwards, it was a pleasant walk back to our hotel from the East Village. 

The following morning, we lingered over breakfast before packing up.  Gale was heading back to Tucson, and I had a bus to catch back to Virginia.  Elliott would be waiting, and I was eager to share the details of my New York adventure with him. 

Balance and Harmony

Sunday, August 11, 2013 – Balance and Harmony

I’m happy to report that I’ve been able to restore some balance in my life, thanks to three fully functioning bathrooms.  Seriously, Elliott and I are both much calmer now that the work is completed.  Of course, that alone wasn’t responsible for the new equilibrium.  Constant self-reminders to be mindful, to focus on one thing at a time and to avoid over-scheduling my time were essential.  

During the week, I lunched out with AHS friends, got my parking permit for the new school year at George Mason University, and finished reading Sonia Sotomayor’s memoir, My Beloved World.  (I am so glad I never went to law school!)  I worked out at the gym and practiced the music for choir.  Singing in a choral group is a totally new experience for me, and it has some unexpected challenges.  I can read music because I studied piano a number of years.  I participated in student recitals, but I was never involved in any group performances.  Most of the other members of the choir have been singing together for several seasons, and are already quite comfortable with the music.  Even as a real beginner, however, I’m excited to be part of an ensemble. 

The major activities of this weekend revolved around a visit from Elisa and Christian.  On Saturday morning, I accompanied Elisa and two of her bridesmaids on a dress-shopping expedition.  Within two hours, they not only selected gowns for the bridesmaids, but they also found a dress for the mother of the bride.  Trying on fancy dresses in a fitting room with three twenty-somethings was quite an experience.  In all of my 63 years, I’d never tried on long gowns, and it was like a fantasy come true.  I love the dress we ultimately chose – long, flowing, elegant, midnight blue.  Like the bridesmaids’ gowns, it has a 1930s glamour feel.  It’s hard to describe in words so you can see a photo of it at the Dessy website.   

We followed up with a celebratory engagement dinner for 25 at the house on Saturday evening.  I’d been menu-planning and grocery shopping for several days in preparation.  Our theme was Summer in the South of France (in honor of Elisa’s birthplace), and a big bouquet of sunflowers on the dining room table set the tone.  I included some of my favorite Provençal dishes – garlicky stuffed eggs and canapés of herbed chevre topped with mixed olive tapenade for hors d’oeuvres, lemon-garlic marinated chicken breasts and baked salmon (okay, not strictly Provençal) for main courses, herb-roasted peppers and a gratin of zucchini and rice as accompaniments, a mesclun salad, a spinach fougasse (it’s a shaped bread characteristic of Provence).  I didn’t make the dessert myself.  Instead, I turned to a wonderful local European-style bakery for a beautifully decorated chocolate-raspberry cake.  Today (and for the next few days), we’ll be eating leftovers since, as usual, I prepared way too much food.  Not a problem.  

Beautiful, even without an "s" at the end.

Elisa and Christian practiced their cake-cutting skills.

Breathing Lessons

Friday, August 2, 2013 – Breathing Lessons

Note to self:  Remember to leave time to breathe.  I seem to have forgotten how important this is.  The past week or so has been a frenzy of activity, and I’ve allowed it to send my brain spinning in a vortex that I can’t seem to escape.  Last night, although it was nearly midnight when I went to bed, I couldn’t shut my mind down enough to fall asleep until several hours had passed.   

Here’s a sample of what’s been going on recently: dining out with family and friends; making Restaurant Week reservations for DC; arranging for a New York trip later in the month; practicing with the temple choir (I sing with the tenors!); registering for fall classes at GMU (anthropology and art history); listening to Benjamin Grosvenor play the Rachmaninoff Second Piano Concerto with the National Symphony Orchestra at Wolf Trap Park; cooking up summer favorites (sweet potato salad with roasted red pepper vinaigrette; French lentil salad with chevre; lemon-blueberry bread pudding) for family visitors; planning an engagement party for Elisa and Christian and learning to send invitations electronically; chanting the Torah portion and the Haftarah at Beth El; reading fiction and non-fiction (of the 5 books I read in July, I’d like to recommend Doc, Sugar in the Blood, and The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks).  All of these are activities that I enjoyed, but maybe the pace has gotten too intense.  Summer is supposed to be a more relaxed time, isn’t it? 

I’ve tried.  When I wake up, I listen to the birds singing outside my window.  When I go out in the morning, I look up at the clouds drifting slowly across the sky.  On my walks on the nearby path through the woods, I can lose myself in the random riotous beauty of summer at its peak.  I notice the tangled vines of berries sunning themselves, the Queen Anne’s lace caught up like giant snowflakes in a sea of green, the tulip poplar wannabes sprouting on the forest floor.  Then I go back inside, gulp down a glass of water, and get caught up in the dizzying spiral of the day.  I consider it a challenge to get as much done as possible in a 24-hour period.  Instead of being grateful when I see a blank space on my calendar, I panic and try to fill it.  So, now that I’ve identified the problem, how am I going to solve it?  

Picnic at Wolf Trap before the NSO concert