A Fiorentini & Baker's Dozen

I popped into a shoe shop over the December break to warm up and quickly gave it the once over--some interesting Doc Martens lace-up boots with Black Watch lining and Black Watch ribbon laces (I do like a grosgrain ribbon), a Belle by Sigerson Morrison lace-up boot with a 3-inch monkstrap.  They earned a mental fileaway, but didn't merit a try-on.

Then, as I was on my way out the door, I spied, to my eventual preoccupation, the perfect pair of boots.  Made by Fiorentini & Baker, they are the Eternity two-buckle moto model, and come in smooth black leather (and other colors I'm sure) as well as soft grey suede.

I couldn't loosen the two-buckle's hold on my fancy over the next few days, so on Christmas Eve I ventured back to the shop to give them a try.  I selected the grey suede, as its lived-in temperament suits me more than the shiny smooth black leather. 

I'd done my research on sizing, which says that F&B boots run a size large.  This may be accurate for some, but I went a full two sizes down--I usually wear 39 in European sizes, but found 38 too long.  37 was just right.

And indeed 37 was right, sooo right that my right foot was wondering how I could possibly justify making this incredibly right boot mine on Christmas Eve.  It just seemed greedy.  And that's not right.  Right?

The boots I tried were all suede, including straps and heels

But then my mental machinations left the shop, justlikethat!  Because, gentle readers, I tried on the left boot.  Oh, it fit, no problem.  But F&B have a very pretty, leathertooling kind of way of stamping their logo inside the boot.  It was the name surrounded by a scalloped circle that, because of the tooling, made the circle puff up like a fluffy cloud and irritate my left arch.

Sure, I could have asked for another pair, but thought I'd leave well enough alone and pronounce the boots unwearable. But there's always next time. Maybe I'll try a F&Baker's Dozen then.

Because Paul Harnden Shoemakers

One of my favourite destinations in Soho is IF, which sells European and Asian designs.  I'd always gravitated toward Ivan Grundahl's clothes, but today someone else stole my stylist's/stylish heart.

The English company Paul Harnden Shoemakers makes shoes, obviously (or not necessarily, really), but it also makes beautiful scarves and coats.*  The scarves I saw at IF both incorporated vintage illustrations.  Above is my photo of an oblong scarf, and you can see the same print on a man's shirt, below:

Harnden also showed a bone-colored scarf with navy illustrations of individuals from a children's book, with each page number intact. And he makes a scarf which reminds me of my R. L. Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verses (which I still have) and its beautifully faded illustrations, with colors like someone hand-tinted a photograph.

This coat, which research shows me is available in LA at Decades, reminds of me a Vivienne Westwood. 

But better because discovered.  (Read this article from The Atlantic on the "new" use of "because"):

http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2013/11/english-has-a-new-preposition-because-internet/281601/

Because The Atlantic.

Not into this new use of "because"? Ahh, well.  No Harn-den.

*Actually it would be quite brilliant for Paul Harnden Shoemakers not to make shoes, though the gentleman does make some beautifully shabby ones, perfect for dancing across rooftops or to wear while sweeping the hearth.

Somewhere in Soho

Somewhere in Soho I was cold.  That's why my hair, which is a good foot longer than what you see here, is wrapped around my neck and tucked in my jacket as a makeshift scarf.

I was also feeling something cold-y or even phlu-y* taking me in its grip.  And that's why I don't remember the name of this pop-up shop or even the street it's on.  (It's perpendicular to Broome, parallel to Greene, closer to Houston; that much I do know).

But my foggy mindedness is trumped by that of the manager/owner who was happy to tell me the provenance of the ridiculously delightful feathered shrug stage right (or is it left? Delirious.).

This riot of orange feathers and fabric, he said, is a one-off made by a Project Runway contestant from Season 11.    As I just had an article printed in which I interviewed a PR designer from this season (will blog about that later), and as I have a faculty rock band perf to get ready for this spring, I thought that the shrug might be a serendipitous find.

But as it was rather snug, I passed. When I got home, I tried to find out more about the garment.  The manager had shown me a runway photo with "Merlin" printed beside the image, so I searched for Merlin, Season 11, Project Runway.  What I found was that Merlin was a contestant on Season 1 of The Fashion Show, hosted by Issac Mizrahi and Kelly Rowland, and aired on Bravo.  And it was not renewed after Season 2. 

I remembered how the manager told me not to listen to any of the guys working in the shop because they didn't know anything about fashion. Ummm . . .

So I immediately felt better about passing on the shrug, though I can't shrug off the miserable cold-y/phlu-y feelings just yet.


*I know it may be just a wee bit phantastic, but I do like to substitute a "ph" for an "f" wherever possible.  Maybe it's that Diana Vreeland documentary rubbing off on me, like her phormidable rouge.

Servane Gaxotte's Fairy Tale Necklaces

I'm teaching a class on fairy tales--classic and revisionist--so it's no surprise that I was drawn to these cunning necklaces from the Parisian designer Servane Gaxotte.

They were cuddled together midway through the long Kisan shop in Soho. 

Felinophobes beware: I originally thought that "kisan" might be translated as "cat lady," as the front of the shop featured cool dresses that sneaked watercoloury, abstract cats into the print, as well as cat-emblazoned iPhone cases. I was concerned that the shop would be a cat-astrophe till I proceeded further. 

(NB: I want to make it clear that I adore the delightful FitzRoy Brandes, he of the glorious mug.)

Gaxotte's necklaces (from her "rose" collection) imagine rather large creatures--mice, a girl with cat ears (I know, but still)--and they wear odd fabric garments.  Suspended from a heavy chain, they're kind of fairy tale noir,

with a hint of Degas ballet dancer,

a dollop of Peau d'ane,

and a sprinkling of She Was Nice To Mice, which I knew intimately from the pages of Seventeen magazine when I was about 12 or 13.

Its author, Ally Sheedy, made a different impression on me during her Breakfast Club scene when she shook dandruff out of her hair, creating a snowfall.  At least I think it was dandruff and not a sequel called She Was Nice To Lice.

Although I would l.o.v.e. to wear one of these necklaces to class when I teach Peau d'ane, I won't be doing so unless I find my own Rumplestiltskin, who can spin some gold without any catches.  My beautiful first-born turns 13 today and I intend to enjoy her company.

(BTW: have any gentle readers ever read Neil LaBute's take on the Rumplestltskin story, "With Hair of Hand-Spun Gold"?  It's in a Kate Bernheimer anthology of new fairy tales and is as chilling and current as a LaBute work can be.  Without giving anything away, it goes where the film Easy A fears to tread.) 

Boot Browsing in Soho

I've been reading The Call of the Mall by Paco Underhill in anticipation of my fall fashion theory class, and yesterday my daughters and I answered its siren song at what is one of the biggest malls on the east coast, I'm sure.

Having survived following two tweens around to inappropriate shops such as Forever 21 (my daughter swears that the numerals are meant to be read backwards), Abercrombie & Fitch, and the MAC counter (they just window-shopped there), I was relieved to spend this afternoon in Soho with Mr. C.

I may have continued the inappropriate theme there, though it may simply be a perceived inappropriateness.  Although I gazed lovingly at the smart fall dresses in SportMax, I did not try on any.  Instead, I went into Dr. Martens, searching for the grad student of my youth, and I tried on the fantastic boots above and below. 

What would I wear them with?  Who knows, but I'd wear them. (Definitely during my unit on "punk.")

I also tested the new satchels made in a Liberty of London collaboration with Dr. Martens.  My verdict?  Try the Martens patent leather satchel instead. 

The Strawberry Thief satchel?  Too yellow.

The floral satchel?  Too white.

This patent satchel?  In acid yellow (available at the store)? Yes.

Then upon emerging into dimming daylight after an hour or so in Purl Soho, I learned that most of the boutiques had closed. At 7!  On a Thursday!

But the Frye boot shop was open, so I hoofed in, still carrying a glimmering torch for the campus boots that I so wanted in Grade 7 but was denied.  (I still don't know why.) There I tried on this embellished low cowgirl boot:

As I was wearing a pink sundress with a circle skirt (I had my flower sunglasses in my bag, but felt tht they might be *too* retro with my dress), I felt a little like my countrywoman, k.d. lang, when she dressed in her prairie cowgirl skirts of yore and sang "Turn Me Round (The Square-Dancing Song)":

I liked the boots, but not the hard sell (They're the last pair in the store!  They look beautiful on you!) or the price ($500!), for what the boots were. 

So neither English lad boots nor cowgirl boots came home with me, but gorgeous Japanese and English fabric did. 

And the mall?  It can call me again, maybe.