My Principality

[Air Talia Pump ($198) with Nike Air Technology]

There are lots of women who live for shoes. They collect them. They cherish them. It’s a Cinderella fetish I do not share. Shoes annoy me. They never fit right. They nearly always hurt. I spent my childhood barefoot—in the grass, at the dance studio, around the pool. My nickname growing up was Twinkle Toes. I was always happiest without shoes. 

My father believes that shoes project an image to the world of what kind of girl you are. And based on my shoe choices in high school, he worried that I’d be mistaken for a homeless hillbilly or a prostitute. Most mornings, I’d stand at the kitchen island, shoveling Life Cereal into my mouth, my backpack strap slung over my shoulder. Dad in his starchy white button down would stare down at my flip flops, clear his throat—sore from acid reflux, and grumble, “You shouldn’t wear shower shoes in public.” He would have paid private school tuition just to keep me in closed toed shoes. 

Dad needed an extra tablespoon of Maalox antacid on Friday nights when I’d teeter out in my Payless wedges. “You can’t leave the house in those backless heels,” my father would shout after me as I’d jump in my best friend’s Jeep Wrangler. “We used to call those f*ck me shoes—.” 

On Saturday morning, my father would try a more gentle tactic. He’d take me to the mall. “You just need a good pair of kick around shoes,” he’d say wistfully, while leading me towards Brooks Brother’s. If I wore penny loafers, he was certain people would think: That girl’s father must be a real class act. He’s a groovy guy I’d like to meet.

Cole Haan has added Nike Air technology to create more comfortable heels. These are shoes my father would approve of. I tested them out last weekend, and to my surprise, they were comfortable. I stood at a party for four hours and walked two Hollywood blocks without complaining once. I give an extra enthusiastic thumbs up for the anti-slip traction on the bottom. 

Did she get ready in a slapdash rush…did her husband help with the metal snaps that ran along her side…did she spritz perfume on her neck and wrists or prefer to walk into a cloud of scent…how long did she hold out hope for a daughter before resigning herself to the tender cruelty of raising four sons? 

And did she have an inkling that, someday, her great-granddaughter—the baby she held in her sunspot dappled arms—would find her trunk, tucked away in a secret storage space at the family farm, and uncover these wrinkled dresses folded between 1930’s newspaper? 

Your little voice…

your little voice
Over the wires came leaping
and i felt suddenly
dizzy
With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers
wee skipping high-heeled flames
courtesied before my eyes
or twinkling over to my side
Looked up
with impertinently exquisite faces
floating hands were laid upon me
I was whirled and tossed into delicious dancing
up
Up
with the pale important
stars and the Humorous
moon
dear girl
How i was crazy how i cried when i heard
over time
and tide and death
leaping
Sweetly
your voice

-E E Cummings  

Grumps’ Cottage Rules, originally posted in my Michigan Summers blog in February 2008:

My grandfather is a benevolent curmudgeon. He loves order, Switzerland, Mercedes, and opera. He prefers his animals stuffed and his television (CNBC) on mute. And if a telemarketer calls at dinner time, he answers with:

Oh God, I thought you were the doctor. The baby’s dying.

The telemarketer hangs up mortified and my grandfather laughs.

Grumps and I used to suds our hair in the lake. He taught me that ivory soap floats and that a troll lives under our dock. Grumps replaced the dock this year and he called to say that the troll had left since his habitat had been destroyed. I cried and wished for the summers when Grumps had hair to wash and I felt clean scrubbing with the fish.

My Grandfather’s Ridiculous and Hilarious Rebuttal:

A small correction, the telemarketer hears: “My God, My God, I thought you were the doctor. The baby just died!” That does the trick. They are using Grumps’ time at Grumps’ dinner time so Grumps uses a little of theirs. Turnabout is fair play.
I remember most of the rules that, by the way, descended from my knowledge of and adherence to the rather strict teachings of my Mongol Mentor, Ghengis Kahn (not Herman Kahn) and the somewhat softer approach of my friend, His Holiness the Dalai Lama, Spiritual Leader of the Tibetan people. Compromise that does not reflect weakness, I have learned, is the true answer in life and in dealing with children and certain friends and animals. But I do not recall the “corners on the rugs rule.” Maybe that happened during the cocktail hour.
Please keep up the good work!
-Grumps

My grandfather passed away this month. We will be going Up North to say our goodbyes. He could be a tough general; we always strived to do our best for him, and God knows he could make me burst into tears; but he also gave me the key to a wonderful magical world where chipmunks ate out of my hand, stuffed animals talked, and a troll lived under the dock. It seems almost impossible to walk into that cottage and not have him there. I will always cherish the dozens of Michigan summers I had with that great man.  xoxo, ellie mutt.

 

Firecracker. Hellion. Nomad. The ultimate independent woman. The originator of bohemian chic. In honor of her 99th birthday this May, I’d like to present you no.2 in a series of vignettes.click here for Ida’s first video in series.

Time to clean house: Momma’s coming to town. I grew up in this woman’s house. I spent eighteen years not making my bed, scattering my homework across the dining room table, leaving coke cans in her car, lying around in my pajamas, and raiding her closet and fridge. And now that she’s going to come visit me in my principality, I’m going to put on airs? Who am I kidding?

A girlfriend gave me this lovely vase from Anthropologie. It makes me so happy. My great-grandmother was from Budapest so I suppose this style is in my blood.

A sitcom bit from the Old Country:
My Hungarian great-grandmother would push her husband’s buttons. He was from a poor family in Yugoslavia and she’d never let him forget it. She’d say to him, “When I was growing up, we’d eat meat once a week. When you grow up, your family eat meat once a year.” Oh snap.