Shoeless at 32,000 feet

The Natalie News: Well, she did it – got the tattoo! She and Stefan went into SF to meet with a concert promoter for their Skynyrd in the Vineyard idea, which surprised me, as it was their logical next step. There is apparently some interest and the pair was thrilled. They enjoyed testing the limits of the motorcycle’s brakes on the harrowing streets and bridges and finished out their day with pizza in the North Beach, and went from there to the establishment Nat heard about while on work detail. To show their great affection for each other, she and Stefan combined their names and now sport matching upper arm ornamentation: NASTE. Cute, huh? Do you think Michael and I should come up with something? Lots of possibilities with Mad, don’t you think? Uh, no.

This is the busiest time of year for me. I have a year’s worth of responsibilities to deal with right now. Quantities for next year - my toughest decisions! Colors, labels, buttons, taping and zipper pulls all have to be chosen and ordered too. And I’m happy to tell you I’ll be introducing two new styles this fall – more on that later!

The necessary travel is driving me nuts right now. Here’s a perfect example of a brain stretched too far. Last week I had to fly to New York. I was bleary that Tuesday morning, unprepared for consciousness, leaving the house before dark, laden with cases of stylebooks. I stepped out of the car at the short-term parking lot at SFO to find that I was still wearing my slippers! And not the kind of slippers that teen girls often wear to school and the mall. These were mint green scuffs, shearling-lined and with a dollop of dried pancake batter on the left instep. Yuck. The shoes I intended to wear had been smartly (ha) placed by the door to the garage. I couldn’t miss them, and yet I had. This was a 1.5-day trip and I hadn’t packed any other shoes. There are many shops at the airport, but none of them shoe shops. I would’ve settled for some touristy flip-flops adorned with little plastic sourdough baguettes. You can get the bread at the airport, but not the shoes. So it was off to NY, my city of origin, dressed in my sleek Jil Sander pantsuit and feet that said I’d just escaped from a hospital. One of the TSA staffers commented on how comfortable it must be to travel in slippers. (If she only knew my humiliation!) My only personal luggage was my never-leave-home-without-it Redhouse Microtwill/Leather tote (RH33), which held only my overnight essentials, my pashmina (RH29) and the qt.-size Ziploc of travel liquids. And snacks. There was still plenty of room in that bag for a pair of shoes, and I don’t think I’ll make that mistake again. I was pretty comfortable on the plane, though. Once in NY, I had the driver wait outside the Coach store on Madison Ave. while I dashed in for some appropriate footwear. If you consider 3” heel sandals with gold chains appropriate. I literally stepped into my New York persona. I was ready for business - with an edge, if necessary.