Always the Last to Bed

Twice this week I mentioned to someone that I was planning on wearing a dress with my Manolo Blahniks (my only pair) to a wedding. And twice I was returned with “who?” Who? Now child. how can you not know who Manolo Blahnik is? I am either starting to show my age or starting to discover that people in Northeastern Ohio really don’t know who Manolo Blahnik is. I mean I’ve lived here for 8 years and have gone the spectrum of you farm people don’t know crap to hey this is a wonderful and stylish place. So I was definitely coming from a place of surprise…and half disappointment.  I wasn’t really going to write about this because it seems a little trite, but later in the week it all came full circle so I needed to write about it.

A few days later, I stayed home with my sick 4 year old and while she took a nap, I worked on my laptop in the kitchen and turned on the TV. My remote ended up on E! and an episode of Sex and The City. Suddenly I felt like my 4 best friends just walked into the room and listened to all of my woes. Watching that show makes me feel like I’m having wine with my high school friends- all warm and fuzzy inside like a bottle of Merlot, a cheese plate, and unbelievable memories. Then I realized THIS is how I know Manolo Blahnik.

Carrie always wore Manolos. A famous episode featured her getting “shoe mugged” for her Manolos. And in another, she had them stolen from her at a party where she left her shoes at the door and subsequently decided to “Register” for a new pair like you would for a wedding registry since she’d bought dozens of wedding and baby gifts for friends yet she hadn’t married and didn’t have kids. The mecca of “grown up” fashion in the early 2000’s were SJP and the girls.

So yeah, I guess I was showing my age with the shoe discussion. But really I was amazed at how watching one little show could brighten my day. Every bit about the show was taking me back in time…it was the one where Carrie gets drunk with her editor at Vogue. “Oh, I’M DRUNNNNK at Vogue”…and then “Oh, I SPILLLLLED my drink at Vogue” and “Oh, I’M CRYYYYING at Vogue” because Carrie wore her heart on her sleeve just like usual and told her life story to the editor. Then the rat bastard editor tried to make a move on her in the dressing room by dropping trou in front of her. I mean really. It just made me laugh out loud. So Carrie. So 30-something. Work your whole life writing articles for that moment in the Vogue office, where you’re drunk and someone turns the situation into not what you bargained for. Oh life. How strange it is. Oh man, that was like 15 years ago. How could it be.

It just made me realize that we’re entering a new era for sure- 30 something women now are not buying Manolos and getting drunk at Vogue doesn’t mean the same thing as it meant to us. I’m not quite sure what they’re up to- maybe drinking craft beer, reading Huffington Post and shopping at the mall? That doesn’t seem as fulfilling as entering a room in $500 shoes that are pieces of art. But whatever. To each his own. It seems like me, my Manolos and my 120 page Vogue magazines are old news. And that’s just fine with me. They’re kind of like a little secret badge only the coolest, most sophisticated 40 year olds would appreciate.