Tag Archives: manolo blahnik

shoe trouble

posted by:  audra

i didn’t think it was going to happen there for awhile, but! i have finally taken my beloved shoes into my favorite cobbler.  i attempted to take my broken, beloved shoes to the cobbler.  last night i went out of my way to drop off all of my precious cargo to be repaired.  well, three pairs at least.  and it was fucking closed.  againthis is the third time in a row that this has happened to me.  their hours on the door state that they are open until 6:00pm every night.  and every time i show up shortly after 5:00pm, there is a sign on the door saying “will return at 9:00am”  fucking hell!  are you fucking kidding me with this shit?  to make it worse, i’ve called.  and called.  and called their number & just gotten the answering machine–and this is even during normal business hours.  so i’m pissed.  i have no cute shoes to wear, & am in total panic about what shoes i could possibly wear on to go out with on saturday.

i did this to myself.  had i taken them in, one by one, as the heel pads crumbled, or even as the metal started to show, this could have been prevented.  but now, all my good shoes are fucked & i’m upset.

i could have taken in ten, & probably should have, but that will have to be another time.  that’s too many at once, ten.  just the three pairs alone scares me…one of which are my babies, the red marc jacobs that i lament over constantly.  the other two pairs have been broken for ever.  forever.  a weitzman & a fairly inexpensive square-toed joey o, both stilettos.

typically i’m not wild about weitzman shoes, what with all that bling & tack all over them, but these are perfect, pointy, black stilettos that i’ve had for years, and the heel has cracked once again.  also, the lining is falling apart.  and the joey o’s?  i got them for probably less than $100 like….four or five years ago.  i got them right before a birthday, & in typical new-shoe-fashion, i proceeded to get drunk one evening whilst galloping around the house in them.  “breaking them in”, i call it.  i then remember getting the brilliant idea of making one of my favorite dishes–buttered pasta with tons of kosher salt–right after midnight, as it was now officially my birthday.  i had romantic visions of sitting my then-much-thinner-ass down on the couch & devouring my pasta while staring at my shoes…and i’m pretty sure i was watching the beautiful girls dvd on repeat.  anyway, i peeled around the corner in the kitchen, probably scrambling for some butter, & one of the heels snapped off.

just like that.

it was a clean break.

i was so pissed.  and on my birthday!  ridiculous!  they were fairly cheap though.  and the heel was plastic.  plastic!  not even coated with leather!  anyway, i was so pissed that i threw them in my closet after only one wear & they haven’t seen the light of day until now.  even though they’re several years old, they are still really cute.  very smart looking, these are.  so, we’ll see how long they last at the hands of my cobbler.

my cobbler is a funny little man.  he looks exactly the way one would imagine a cobbler:  kind of short, old, long grey hair, round glasses…except this one smokes a lot of pot.  every time i go in there it’s like hotboxing.  sort of like tommy chong & geppetto from pinocchio had a baby & the baby opened a shoe repair shop.    the narcotic indulgence is fine with me–if one is at home, or hanging out with friends or something–but not when you’re holding a hammer & nail to my $500 shoes, thank you.  maybe it steadies his hands…?  eases his arthritis to get into the fine leather-work details of my footwear?  so far, no mistakes.  he does a beautiful job refurbishing where the back of the heel has become scuffed from driving & resoling where i’ve walked many a drunken step on cobbled sidewalks & gotten the heel lodged in a crack.

there are just two instances thus far where i thought i was going to have to hurt him:  the first was when the stitching was coming undone from the zipper pull on my large coach handbag.  i took it in to him, and a couple days later, it was ready.  i had sam go pick it up for me, but he couldn’t find it right away.  in fact, i believe he said it “wasn’t here”.  sam told him that it was a “big, black, leather handbag?  you redid the zipper pull?”  finally, after digging through stacks & stacks of bulky plain brown paper bags, he found it.  crisis averted.

the second time, i had taken in some nice michael kors heels.  not terribly high-end, but i love them & have had him resole them several times.  i went in to pick them up, the night i had to wear them.  i handed him my ticket and he said they weren’t ready.  he said, “oh, no, no.  those are gonna take me a few days.  i had to unscrew the heel & order a special fitting for them.  try back on tuesday.”

i was furious.  i barked at him spitting, “um, you told me you’d have them ready!  tonight!  by 4pm!  i need them tonight, and this is bullshit about unscrewing the heels.   you’ve worked on them before, and i’ve never had a problem.  just give me the shoes & i’ll take them elsewhere.  i’m not paying for your services.”

he held up the most hideous skank-deluxe strappy prom shoes i’ve ever seen…believing them to be mine.

i said, “those are not mine.   mine are the black pumps with studs?”

“oh…THOSE!  yes, of course!  they’re right here.  i just got done polishing them.  here you go.”

“oh!  they look purrfect.  thank  you so much.  have a great night!”

again with the pot-smoking during work hours!  jesus christ!  i almost had a shoe-aneurysm!   in a bad way!

his prices have gone up considerably since i started going to him a number of years ago, but his quality is well worth it.  currently, he’s charging $25 per pair for a new heel pad & half-sole, complete with a little metal tack in the toe to help prevent excess wear there, too…which is still ridiculously cheap compared to a new, $400 or $500 shoe.   i consider my shoes to be my children, so it’s kind of like taking them to the pediatrician; the little metal tack thing acting as a booster shot.  i’m a little hesitant, though, about the marc jacobs repair.  they’re my favorites, & they’ve never had to make a trip to the shoe doctor.  and now my shiny manolos are ruined, too.  however will he make the dull silver on the back of the heel gleam again?!  will he fuck up the suede leopard print lining?  oh jesus, i think my head may explode.  i’m shallow & materialistic like that.

so, wish me luck!  or, better yet, wish geppetto-chong-the-shoe-guy luck.   he fucks up & disfigures one of my babies, i’ll be driving one of those little shoe nails through his forehead.  if i can ever get in the fucking door.

i’ll keep you posted.

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Filed under fashion

time sensitive material

posted by:  audra

every fucking night when i’m about to pop some roofies & slip on my satin leopard print, i ask myself, ‘audra, why is it you waste so much time, you wasteful time-waster?  and how come you never, ever get anything accomplished, ever?!’ this has really been bothering me lately.  i never seem to have the “time” to clean the house, get more than one load of laundry done — let alone put said laundry away after it’s clean — and definitely never have time to do any sort of fat-burning activity.

…even though i used to come home & do so every night, as well as tidy up a spot, and manage to get to bed before midnight.

…and let it be noted that no, indeed, i have not resorted to drinking more.

i think it’s my new morning routine that has set me up for failure…?  when i had more of this luxury called time, i would get up promptly at 5 o’clock-ish on a weekday, shower, go about my business & actually make it to work on time without a trace of panic.  now, my alarm goes off at 5:20.  i turn it off & wait for sam to shower first & wait for him to wake me.  he does so sometimes at 5:20, if i’ve already turned the alarm off…then again at 5:30.  lately, it’s been the third (sometimes fourth) attempt at 5:40 (or 5:50) that gets me up…and it’s been a lethargic, dirty-housed downward spiral since.  makes sense, right?

i’m now on a personal mish to make more time for myself, so i can actually keep my household up, perhaps cook something during the week(!), and still have plenty of gooey makeout time with the television, a wine bottle & my chaise.

alright.  so.  get your fancy panties on!  better yet – take them off!  get comfortable.  it’s time for a day in the life of yours truly!  and just so we’re clear, of course, this is weekday stuff only.  but i shouldn’t have to tell you that.  in fact, we’ll just use today as an example for funsies.  indeed, what did i do today?  where does all my time go?  i’m dying to know…you are too…

  • 5:40 am:  currently my typical wake-time, but 20 minutes behind what’s ideal for my morning routine.
  • 5:41 am:  get in shower immediately.  since i’ve saved time by shaving the night before, i can be out in less than 10 minutes.  i’ve also decided to only shampoo my hair once a day, so i’ve shaved a couple of minutes off there, too.  score.  i do however, at least condition my hair in the morning.
  • 5:50 am:  smelling like peppermint, i’m out in 9 minutes.  that’s good, right?  normally i could probably do 5 minutes, but today was a struggle.
  • 5:51 am:  detangle hair, wrap in towel.  moisturize everything…face first, then extremities & special girl bits.
  • 5:55 am:  apply anti-persperant/deodorant.
  • 6:00 am:  jesus!  i’m starting to see where my time is going in the morning…it takes 10 minutes to put on moisturizer?!
  • 6:01 am:  start makeup ritual.  eyebrows always first.  then eye makeup.  base, shadow, liner, more shadow, then glue on lashes.
  • 6:15 am:  while lash glue sets, i blowdry my hair after applying product.
  • 6:20 am:  get coffee & prepare a lovely english muffin for breaky.
  • 6:30 am:  sit outside with coffee & ciggie.
  • 6:37 am:  check email & such.
  • 6:45 am:  heat up flat irons & continue the getting ready process — apply mascara, some foundation.
  • 6:50 am:  turn the dryer on from the night before if clothes need the wrinkles taken out of them.
  • 6:55 am:  straighten my hair.  it really only takes about 10 minutes from start to finish, but for some reason it always takes me longer when i’m in a hurry.  of course.
  • 7:15 am:  complete makeup — finishing powder, lippy, what-have-you.
  • 7:25 am:  attempt to get dressed.  even if i have laid out everything the night before, it never fails; i stuggle finding fishnets or my bra.  every.  time.
  • 7:31 am:  leave the house.
  • 8:10 am:  arrive at workplace.  there was traffic, so i was late.  beautiful.  one would think that 29 minutes is more than adequate time to drive 12 miles.
  • 5:46 pm:  arrive at le cuntington manor.  traffic was a fucking mess & i’ll keep quiet my bitching about bad driver stereotypes.
  • 5:47 pm:  take off my shiny manolos & notice that the heels need repairing already.  of course.
  • 5:47 pm:  bitch about traffic.  bitch about how hot it is.  bitch about the humidity.
  • 5:47 pm:  note how i’m sweating like a fat girl writing her first love letter.
  • 5:48 pm:  open beer.
  • 5:49 pm:  smoke outside with the mr.
  • 6:00 pm:  do a quick inventory & determine that we, in fact, do not need to go to the store like i’d originally planned.  yes!
  • 6:01 pm:  notice that i’m star-ving & perhaps should have a snack?  maybe early dinner?  maybe not, because then i’ll just be starving at 10:00 & drunk & then drunk-snack?
  • 6:05 pm:  elect a snack of salami & a sharp white cheddar.
  • 6:06 pm:  change into a long black chemise i wore several years ago when i was bettie page for halloween.  it’s too hot for yoga pants.
  • 6:16 pm:  check email & update blog.
  • 6:25 pm:  look at the tele (family guy), consider changing channels & then notice my hands are dry.  perhaps i could use a fresh coat of polish, too…?
  • 6:26 pm:  see what sam’s doing.  ‘is that freddie mercury?’ i ask.  ‘it’s about queen.’ he replies.  ‘even better’ (sarcastically).  i exit the room.
  • 6:31 pm:  reenter kitchen.  put away cheese & salami.  consider doing a load of laundry, but determine it’s too stuffy to do so.
  • 6:32 pm:  consider picking out an outfit for tomorrow, but determine i’m too sick of what’s in my closet to do so.
  • 6:33 pm:  pick at imaginary things on my back & think about what interesting things i could possibly do tonight to make this blog more exciting.
  • 6:35 pm:  save draft, fix a v & t with exxxtra lime, and retreat to the veranda to have a fag.  and a cigarette, too.
  • 6:59 pm:  decide to wear my standard uniform tomorrow; a black skirt, black top & whatever heels aren’t tore up from the floor up.
  • 7:01 pm:  start washing machine…with, my specialty:  5 items or less…which is ridiculous & obviously the reason as to why i’m forever doing laundry.
  • 7:03 pm:  settle into my chaise with the queen documentary on the bio channel & my july issue of nylon.
  • 7:05 pm:  i didn’t last long…in fact, i never “settled in” at all.  the documentary was boring & sam was reading a book.
  • 7:06 pm:  working on this retarded time-wasting blog…
  • 8:07 pm:  i’m done.  clearly, my dawdling/blogging/procrastinating are the culprits.  and possibly getting up late & spending too much time getting ready.

time elapsed: approximately 15 hours, give or take.  you’re welcome.

you see what i do for you guys?!  sigh…  and now i’m missing the david bowie bio.  thanks a lot, assholes.

good night, babies.  i do love you.

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queers, five years & saturday’s mistake: the conclusion

posted by:  audra

i was so starving & pissed at this point, & had consumed enough wine that i snapped.  mid-shot, i interrupted his photo-taking & hissed, “excuse me, are you going to be doing that all night?” i did!  i totally hissed!  he then of course apologized profusely & noted that he was taking blurry shots for the website & that i would definitely not be in any other shots.  whatever!  you’re still annoying the fuck out of me!  but he did move, & i didn’t see him for the rest of the night.  good work, audra.  good work.

entrees finally arrive & my thighs start sweating:   i ordered the grilled leg of lamb with green herb yogurt, chick pea fritters & a salad of orange & fennel…sam got the grilled sirloin with shallot butter, roof greens & fries.  we weren’t very impressed about the fries part…couldn’t they come up with something a bit more swank?  at least serve them in a cute little cup like this place does?  whatever!  everything was fairly good; except that sam’s meat was a little overdone.  actually, a lot overdone.   and if sam thinks it’s overdone, it’s way overdone.  my lamb was a little on the cool side, too.  it seems to me that they were leaving entrees out to rest too long before serving them.  again with the under-staffing issue!  anyway, the wine we chose to have with dinner was perfect…and oopsies, i have no idea what it was!  i wasn’t all that impressed with the wine-list either.  this being a wine place, you’d think i would be…but 6 years working in the wine industry, i’m hard to please when it comes to wine lists.  maybe it was just the by-the-glass list i wasn’t impressed with.  hmm.  whatevs.  i’m probably just being a bitch.

we did dessert & paid our check quickly…as oddly enough a really weird guy that we sort of know was seated less than a foot away from me, with his date.  she was really pretty & i have no idea what the fuck she was doing with him.  clearly she’s an idiot!  he spent the whole time texting while she sat & stared at her drink.  we don’t know this guy well, only through a friend of ours, and have only been around him twice.  but he’s a real loser & thinks he’s some big fucking treat.   i’ve witnessed him giving pcp to a friend when said friend thought it was just a regular joint.  anyway!   i can’t stand him.  he’s bad news.  luckily, we hadn’t seen him in a few years so he didn’t recognize us before we split.  so! close!

walking back to the car, i stumbled a few times.  i did.  what the fuck!?  i had four glasses of wine total, over the course of maybe 3 hours.  that’s nothing to me!  that’s just warming up!  whatever… i shrugged it off & got into the passenger seat.

not 3 blocks down the street & i have to ask sam to pull over.  i know i’m not going to be sick or anything gross like that, but i just could not be in the car.  super dizzy, you guys!  seriously!  do i need to remind you i only had 4 glasses of wine?!  so he drops me off in this parking lot, & i literally stumble over to the curb.  i can’t believe i didn’t fall down or scuff my shoes or something!  i was totally fucked up!  whoopsies!

i sat for a couple minutes, looking at my shoes, hoping i wouldn’t be sick on them, wondering why in the world i was so drunk & finally teetered my way back to the car.  it was so horrible!  i don’t think i’ve staggered so much, even in my drunkest drunkenness ever!  once i did make it back into the car, i was totally fine.  my drunkenness seemed to disperse as quickly as it had come on.  weird, right?!  i blame it on the one glass i had at le bar de skeeze earlier!  what else could it have possibly been?!   i just don’t know…but something fucked me up beyond recognition, as i went to bed at 11:00 that night.  eleven o’clock!  not my usual 4am antics, no!  eleven o’clock.  believe it.

i can say that there is something good that came out of my going to bed totally yet accidentally wasted at 11 on a saturday night:  i got up before noon sunday morning.  this never, ever happens & i’m kinda proud of myself!  this allowed us to watch all three of our netflix films in one day!  before dark!  this week’s was a fag themed one:  three of hearts, divine trash & the boys in the band.

three of hearts was kinda…meh.  i was real excited for it; documentary – one gay couple married to a woman, so they have this hot threesome thing going on, even though none of the three are really all that hot.  anyway, the woman gets pregnant at the beginning of the doc & they pretty much ruin it with that.  it’s mostly baby stuff from there on out, so i lost interest.

divine trash.  john waters documentary.   enough said!  get it!  i’m hoping to do some geneology maybe sometime real soon &  find out that john is my uncle.  wouldn’t that be rad?!

the boys in the band is fucking uh-mazing!  i’m super-embarrassed that we hadn’t seen it yet!  it’s super-intense & done in what feels like real time…like you’re there hanging out with them without any missing blocks of time, you know?  it’s like queer as folk & who’s afraid of virginia woolf? had a baby & it’s brilliant.  love, love, love.   in fact, as soon as it was over, i had to pop in virginia woolf because boys had put me in such a tizzy for it.  get the boys in the band right this very second, it will totally change your life!

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