Fashion-In-NYC

My fondest memory of my childhood was my mom reading my favorite bedtime story – Cinderella.  This story was the ultimate fairy tale – a prince finds his princess, who is just a common girl.  My favorite part was when the Prince pocketed the shoe and vowed to find and marry the girl to whom it belonged.      
When my mom got to my favorite part of the story,  I stopped and asked her a very important question.  I always wanted to know what kind of shoe my mom was wearing when she met her prince, aka my dad.  I knew that if I was going to try to impress a prince than I would wear a shoe that would knock his socks off.   My mom sadly shook her head and told me that labels do not matter in fairy tales and real life.   The prince fell in love with Cinderella because of who she was and not what she wore. 

At age 10 – I was aware that this world was all about labels and love.  Five years later, my friends were obsessed with boys and I was obsessed with fashion.  While my classmates gossiped about which boy to go to the dance with, I daydreamed about shoes and accessories.  I would always run to my mailbox the 1st of every month, because my Vogue magazine would be in the mail, waiting for me.  As soon as my new glossy magazine would come in the mail, I would rush to my bedroom and put the do not disturb sign on my door.   My magazine took me to a different world, far away from the suburbs in Connecticut and I would slowly turn each page and stare mesmerized at the latest styles.  

We love our shoes

Ten years later, I was a twenty-four year old single girl living and working in New York City.   I did not have to wait for a Vogue magazine to come to my house every month in the mail.  Fashion was everywhere in the streets of New York and I took it all in – New Yorker’s had a unique sense of style.  It was not like Connecticut, where everyone would wear the same shirt from the Gap.  This entire city was one big magazine. 

8th floor - my favorite section

                                         My favorite place in New York City is the Saks Fifth Avenue flagship store – the 8th floor was my heaven.  There is a special elevator on the main floor of Saks, which will take you straight to the 8th floor, aka the shoe department.  The Saks flagship store has the biggest selection of shoes – so big that the shoe department had to have their own zip code.  I still remember when I bought my first pair of nice shoes.  I  leisurely strolled on the 8th floor of Saks – I was a weepy mess when I got off the elevator and this bubbly shoe salesperson was like, “Smile sweetie, you’re surrounded by SHOES!”  I had to crack a smile at how excited the saleslady was.  It seemed as if she was waiting for my arrival all day and the fact that I showed up did not make her day – it made her year.        

I took my time and tried on as many shoes as I could – until I found the perfect pair.  I looked at the happy shoe salesperson and told her that I would purchase the beautiful 6” black patent leather louboutin shoe.  I  happily skipped to the elevator to go back to work – with my latest and greatest purchase. 

Now, 4 years later – I am a proud owner of numerous over the top exquisite shoes, which include Jimmy Choos, Louboutin’s, Chanels, Manolos and Yves Saint Laurent.  I pick out the shoe I’m going to wear before I choose an outfit for the night.  I think of them as an investment and not as a purchase – I glow when people compliment me on my shoes.  Everyone has a passion, men love cars – women love fashion, or so I heard.      
       
I hope to have a daughter in a couple of years,  so that I can read her bedtime stories.  Maybe she will share the same passion – I heard that the apple doesn’t fall from the tree.  I will tell her the tale of Cinderella and be prepared to answer the same question that I asked my mom years ago.  Because – we all know that I will be ready to wear the right show when I meet my prince.  

Style is the way we speak to the world without words.  It distinguishes who we are as individuals and I always believed that it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.