Wrong number

I suppose I should have anticipated that the title of this blog would lend itself to misinterpretation. I should also have realised that it takes all kinds to make this world and that some kinds gravitate towards 'words that rhyme with corn' more than others. While I welcome with open arms those of all creeds, tastes and appetites, I do regret that I continually dissappoint a certain readership who find me online when they were looking for something slightly different. I have been watching my hit counter with interest while predictable google search terms such as mex porn, zanzibar porn and safari (?) porn dash their hopes of a 100% match against the rocky crags of my shoe cupboard.

(click to enlarge - wouldn't we all....)

I was impressed with a recent 'woman invites worker in for tea porn' that found its way to my blog. What Dion Phaneuf fans were doing on my blog, I can simply not contemplate but I am sorry that I was unable to supply the 'maputo porn girl' to fulfil a clearly specific fantasy.

Sooo, with the wrong number quotient just doubled through this post alone, I thought I'd at least offer something in condolence. I don't get it, but hey, you probably don't get me either!

The Womens Blogger Directory: Shoe Porn

The Womens Blogger Directory: Shoe Porn

The sisterhood of the travelling shoe - part duex

Sitting at Franca's I became very, very glad that I was born female. There were at least 5 private conversations occurring in a multitude of languages (some English) and at least another 4 public conversations (mostly English, at least one more Italian). I had absolutely no doubt whatsoever sitting there, observing this symphony, that any male entering the room and attempting to follow even a few seconds of this communication frenzy would simply end with an exploded head!

Even I, brought up on a steady diet of stop-start female conversations that jump from one topic to another with no apparent relevance - at the speed of thought, did not dare venture into what was clearly a practised ensemble. I did try to concentrate on keeping my mouth closed since my jaw kept on dropping in wonder. I also wished I had brought along a notebook as I kept missing crucial references to the best party planner in Joburg, or the two best (since the ladies couldn't seem to come to a conclusion) places to buy authentic chorico. The Bar Mitzvah of a shared (by many in the room) acquaintance's son seemed to have been a wonderful event and outfits for so-and-so's upcoming dinner party were being considered. And then...as it is bound to...the conversation turned to shoes. Of course it did. What were you expecting?

Did you see the latest pair of Jimmy Choo's displayed at that fancy shop in Sandton City? oh YES, I most certainly did - but they weren't as drool dead gorgeous as the little red crystal numbers I saw at Hyde Park the other day - at that place with the snooty assistant who can't afford to buy them either. But seriously, who would spend R12 000 (a STACK of cash) on a pair of shoes? Not us, the voices in the room chorused (yeah right, we all privately think, if I had that kind of dosh, I'd buy a pair in every colour)! And suddenly, I was part of the tide! Haven't we seen you around before? Who did you say referred you again? Oh..her?? Isn't she lovely? We just looove her (translation - you're cool...you're in!).

I have since gotten the low down on the best knock off Louis Vuitton handbags in town (yes, I buy knock offs - I also go to Franca's - people think I might actually be able to afford them) and gotten consultation from no less than 10 highly stylish women on which pair of Chanel sunglasses suit me best - I still get compliments when I wear them. I have also shared in the joy of new births and the concern over ill loved ones. They have laughed at me because I wouldn't get rid of my cats even though my (now live in) boyfriend has a severe allergy (he is much better now) to them. All things so wonderfully female. All because of the humble shoe.

Come to think of it...time to go see Franca again.

The sisterhood of the travelling shoe - part uno

OK, I didn't see the movie about the pants - seriously, who makes a movie about pants - so I take no responsibility for any associations. I do however feel like celebrating the ability of my favourite accessory (ok, besides my boyfriend) to bring us girls together.

Case in point - I recently joined the Women's Blogger Directory, one of those collections of blogs that are allover the place. Although it is probably one of the lower tech blog sites around, it seems to have captured the essence of blog socialising - for me anyhow, I am meeting lots of interesting women there (er...this is starting to sound a little fishy, isn't it?). Stay with me a little longer, I have a point, I swear. There is Pamposh from the Phillipines who has introduced me to the concept of the shoe cupboard (still not really clear on this...if I find out, I'll let you know). Peldyn and Ann Marie who, both confessed shoe addicts, also indulge in some beautiful bling - which, like shoes, never give you a 'fat' day and not to forget Marilyn, who called to order the meeting of shoe addicts anonymous. I don't consider these woman my best friends - I really do have a life, not to mention a day job, but it is kinda cool that women from across the globe can instantly connect over a beautiful pair of heels.

Let me cite another example of the social entry card that is the ability to hold a shoe-conversation. My hairstylist decided to leave the country and go live in Panama with her husband who was relocated by his company - selfish cow who always made my hair look amazing. So...what's a girl to do - can't let just anyone touch these tresses. After asking around for some references, I opted for Franca's Hair Romance - not based on the name, I am sure you will understand, but based on the fact that the woman who recommended her to me always has amazing looking hair.

Enter Franca's (home based) salon for the first time on a Saturday morning. There around about 15 women in the salon, all of relatively 'mature' age and clearly of different ethnicity (based on the Mediterranean languages wafting across the room) - spot the Jewish kugels in one place, careful for their Louis Vuitton bags not to touch the floor, the Italian ladies sharing recipes for the best cup cakes, ever and the group of Greek women talking about who the best florist in Johannesburg is. That's just what I could gather from the English conversations going on. I, a relatively young woman of Afrikaans origin - the only natural blonde in the room and English not my first language (I suppose at least we all seemed to have that in common). In addition to the private conversations, another 4 'public' conversations are being shared across the salon - my first hint that these women don't just have their hair done together, they are a tightly knit social circle!

Intimidation was not the word! But, I was in need of a good hairstylist who I could rely on to make my long hair look beautiful - so I wasn't going anywhere, no matter how many stares were coming my way. And I had a reference, someone from their 'in' crowd, who unfortunately didn't come with to hold my hand! So...I went in, found an empty seat and had one of the best experiences of my grooming life!

Nothing like a little Italian

We're still in the throes of summer here in South Africa and going to work every day while the sun is shining and the flowers are blooming is just.not.right. So, I console myself with breaks gone by and wade through photos of happier, work free, times. (Yes, I am once again craving a holiday)

Whilst reminiscing on sun-filled breaks, I came across pictures of a cruise I went on with some friends a few years ago. The ship (boat?!, no, probably ship) went from Durban harbour, through to Maputo (Mozambique) via both Barra Lodge and Portuguese islands. Absolutely delightful and beautiful, with that typical East African coastline and turquoise crystal clear (luke warm!) ocean. Ah.

Anyway, to make matters even more delightful, the ship's crew consisted (almost entirely) of Italian boys. Now if there is a nation on earth that was made to stroke the female ego, it is surely the Italian nation. Brought up (I imagine) at their mother's knee to worship all that is female, they can acknowledge with a single appreciative look: 'Thou art woman". No expectations, nothing encroaching, just a simple statement that confirms all that you have always known. And they make amazing food, not the mention the shoes!! I was of Roman origin in a previous life, I'm convinced of it! I digress...

I even got to open the dance floor at the captain's dinner with the (very) Italian captain, who, even though he didn't speak much English and my Italian is limited to 'scarpe' (shoes, of course), managed to communicate a greeting (invitation?) to my mother! How can you not love them!

Perhaps shoes are a way to 'top up' on these feel good moments that are not always prominent...hmmm...perhaps that's just the excuse I'm going with for now!

I leave you with our waiter for the duration of the cruise, regaling us with an Italian classic. Now that's what I call service!

My cup of tea

Ladies who lunch are increasingly becoming ladies who have tea in the afternoon (although I suspect this has been happening for years and that tea is just a convenient colour to disguise any manner of er, performance enhancing, beverages). Finally, someone with a little more flair and decidedly good taste has managed to combine this lovely leisurely activity (post-shopping of course) with some of the items you may have bought - earlier that day!

The Berkeley in London are now offering Pret-a-Portea creations based on the seasonal designs of some of our favourite drool-worthy deities. You can snack on Laurent Perrier and a Christian Louboutin green glitter shoe biscuit (complete with red sole), or enjoy Africa Amber tea accompanied by a bit of dark lace chocolate Prada inspired heaven. I can't wait to try this when I am next in the UK - finally something to look forward to besides the weather!




Which designer creation would you most like to sink your teeth into?