Shoe Biz

First came the invitation, then the R.S.V.P-ing, then lining up behind the red velvet ropes, and finally, after actually being on The List, ushered in.

What on earth am I prattling on about? Well, I must back up a moment. Nicknamed Cinderella for a reason, me likey shoes. Regardless of what anybody says (evil stepsisters included), I think I have great taste in footwear.

A woman at the Eugene Saturday Market recently asked me where a great place to buy shoes in Portland was. My answer was the brand new John Fluevog Store of course! So imagine my surprise when she replied, “Oh, is that where you and your friends get your clunky, old-lady shoes?”

Insert the loud sound of a vinyl record being scratched here.

My what? Did she say clunky, old-lady shoes? I had a minor heart flutter. And then I burst out laughing. Not for one second have I ever thought of my designer shoes as invoking images of either clunky or an advanced age bracket. No, no, no. Young, hip, stylish maybe, but definitely not what she said.

But to answer, yes, the Fluevog Stores in New York, Seattle, San Francisco and now, finally closer to home in Portland, are the places where Groom, my friends,and I buy our funky (rhymes with clunky), quirky, and colorful shoes.

And we were invited to the Launch Party! What’s a four-hour round trip drive when the opportunity to meet Himself is presented? We spent yesterday in Portland, hanging out with friends, enjoying the sun and rubbing elbows with the creative genius, John Fluevog.

Secretly, I was hoping for one of those posh gift bags, or a special sale, or some form of contest that would provide the winner with a pair of groovy shoes, but facing the longish drive home, we opted not to stay very late, so we don’t know how it ended.

But while we were there, oh what fun. Loads of great Fluevog shoes on display and even more on the feet of all the guests. It was one big gawk fest, everybody admiring what everybody else was wearing.

We were provided with refreshments and a D.J. in the corner kept the music flowing. One distraught man spilled red wine on one of the brand new leather display tables. Betcha that’s gonna stain. In his case, no matter how cool they were, we did not want to be standing in his shoes.

Hailing from Vancouver, B.C., John Fluevog has “provided unique soles for unique souls since 1970.”

Before I ever tried on my first pair (Thank you Kimmmmm!), I was drawn to his humor and philosophy.

Question: “Are John Fluevog Angels really satan resistant?”

Answer: “You’re wearing Angels right now, right? Look around - do you see him? Nope! I guess they are resistant. (Good thing, too. I heard he was asking about you.)

My philosophy? Shoes should make you smile!

Salley Forth

I received an email this morning containing the following message:

This October is very special. It has 5 Fridays, 5 Saturdays and 5 Sundays all in 1 month. This happens once in 823 years. These are known as money bags. Pass this along to 8 good people and money will appear in 4 days based on the Chinese feng shui. No pass backs. Those who stop it will experience none.

Really? I opened my calendar and counted, and sure enough, five Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. But I also happen to have my 2004 calendar open to October and guess what? Also five Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. I did the math and came up with only five years since the special, lucky “money bags” month occurred, not the reported 823. Wanna know something else? If any of us are still breathing, it’s supposed to come ‘round again in 2021, a mere egg short of a dozen years from now.

Of course, I do love fun numbers and alignment and had one of my heart’s desires come true last Sunday, on 10-10-10.

Last year, I bumped into a photo of a necklace that made my heart skip a beat. For years, customers have been requesting that I design necklaces and all I could imagine was taking one of our finished postage stamp pieces and stringing beads and the thought made me queasy.

You see, I didn’t want to make matchy-matchy and got stuck in my own mind’s quagmire that that’s all I could do. But when I discovered this photo of Richard Salley’s art, it broke something loose in me and like a warm summer rain, washed the mud away. When the rain stopped, my internal atmosphere cleared and I found a path to my own designs.

The term “sally forth” means to begin an adventure and for those of you who have recently discovered our blog, Groom and I set out on a new adventure this year in designing our 2010 collection, taking metalsmithing classes and setting up a working studio in our basement.

In the jewelry world, Richard Salley is known as a rock star. In all the time of staring at his work published in books and magazines (I’ve been carrying around this particular photo in my purse for over a year), it never once occurred to me that I might meet him, much less take a class from the metal genius, or even, hold my breath, ever have the opportunity to own a piece of his original artwork.

All I knew, while meditating on his stunning artistry, is that I desired knowledge and felt if I stared long enough, I would summon it to me somehow.

About six months into our new journey, led by the brilliant star of Mr. Salley, it finally occurred to me to see if he had a website. Duh! The first thing I noticed was a tab for “workshops.” I clicked on that page first and was thrilled to learn that this Santa Fe jeweler would be teaching a class, “Skulls, Wings and Rusty Things” at Art & Soul in Portland, Oregon during October. Groom and I immediately signed up, postponing our trip to New York until February 2011.

The highly anticipated day finally arrived last Sunday and we couldn’t have been more delighted (except for the getting up at O’dark-thirty and driving two and a half hours in the rain), but Richard Salley’s teaching style was relaxed and my hunch that he’s a bit of a rogue cowboy proved true in my eyes.

Taking his inspiration from wrought-iron work, he has such a high level skill set and knows intimately the rules of design, that he can bend them at will with fantastic results.

Not only did we have a chance to meet him, but we learned several valuable techniques including the very specific one I had hoped for all year, and I had the opportunity to purchase a necklace from him directly. Jackpot!

While planting seeds in the pure fields of possibility, we also learned that Richard, and his brilliant wife, Jane Salley, are co-teaching a week long workshop in sunny Mexico in January of next year. Oh shazam, would Groom and I like to attend…

The magic continued. For our anniversary last August, a photographer friend of ours in Portland, Miss Bee Bugg as we affectionately call her, gifted us with an overnight stay at the Crowne Plaza Hotel, which included the $12 a night parking fee and a lovely complimentary breakfast. We decided to use it after the class Sunday evening.

So on 10-10-10, we stayed on the 10th floor in a beautiful suite with a sweeping view of the City of Roses.

The artist Tim Lord (that I wrote about on August 4, 2010), and his wife, Mary Gayle, on their way home to Spokane after another opening for his artwork, this time in Astoria, met up with us.

We had a chance to see a fresh print from his latest painting, Day of the Dead at the Deadwood Cemetery, a companion piece to his Wild Tea Party at the Deadwood Cemetary Alice in Wonderland themed painting.

We toodled up to Northwest’s Trendy-Third neighborhood and all agreed on the Chinese restaurant August Moon because of the red lanterns hanging in front. As you can see from his paintings (just click on them to enlarge), Tim Lord likes red lanterns.

Parting is such sweet sorrow, but it had to be done. Saying goodnight, Groom and I spent a lovely evening in our fancy digs and enjoyed breakfast the next morning in the Crowne Plaza’s restaurant. As we were leaving, the server brought us to-go cups and filled them with fresh coffee - what a thoughtful gesture.

What trip to Portland is complete without a stop at the famed Powell’s Bookstore in the Pearl District? Touted to be the largest new and used book store in the world, it’s always a thrill to saunter through the maze, drooling at the sheer volume of books, suddenly in need of titles one never knew existed.

We finished our mini-working vacation with a mango bubble tea from Boba Tea and a bit of a shopping spree at Dazzle and Galore before heading home.

To close this interesting week, Saturday, October 16th is Sweetest Day. The purpose of this holiday is to make other’s feel special. It is a time to acknowledge family and friends who make your life special. I want to take this opportunity and wish all of you the happiest of Sweetest Days.

A Cup of Steaming Camera

We’ve recently discovered a new feature on our Netflix account which offers internet radio. To our delight, we can select various genres of music we enjoy and voila! the music piped into our home is to our taste. As an added bonus, there are no commercials or distracting talk and the name of the artist, song and album appears on our television screen at the touch of a button, allowing us to add more music to our playlist.

No, this is not an ad for Netflix. The reason I mention it is because a new song came on and the lyrics were oddly familiar while the tune was one we’d never heard before. Something about a girl “being a drama queen and only seventeen.” Flashbacks of Abba circa 1976 “You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen.”

My how times have changed. While disco fever raged “back in the day,” songs were written about dancing queens. Now they are written about “drama queens.” There is a lot of talk about people being drama queens and kings these days, but Kimmmm recently echoed my mother and described my story-arc as a sitcom rather than a melodrama and this week was no exception.

But first, I must follow up on last week’s entry. Thank you for all your feedback. If I was running my life as a democracy, then the votes are in and the proposed trip to the South in August has been nixed. Can’t say for sure, but plans are afoot right now for spending our air miles getting to New York in the fall.

The idea is for Groom and me to meet up with King Zolo, the moniker given to our friend who mistook my handwritten date of 2010 for Z0L0. He’s originally from upstate New York and hasn’t been to Manhattan for quite some time. The idea of wandering about The City in autumn, poking around antique stores and flea markets, giving our cameras a hearty workout and attending a Broadway show tickles all of our fancies.

As a trial run, to see how the three of us handle spending long hours together, we took a road trip to Portland last Thursday and did a mini-version of our ideal day. We stopped in Aurora, a small town filled with antique stores (24 miles south of Portland on Highway 99), then meandered through the Sellwood neighborhood in Portland, ate a fantastic dinner on the waterfront and capped the evening with, guess what? A Broadway Musical, The Lion King.

Apparently the trip was successful because we received a phone call the next day from King Zolo suggesting that we “go for it!” Details forthcoming as they get clearer and nearer.

But how does this scenario tie into my sitcom story-arc, you ask? I’m getting to that. But first, what is it with beards this week? As you’ll notice from some of the photos, I’ve been surrounded by them in the last few days.

Take a look at the fellow in the red pin-striped suit. He appeared at the booth long enough for a fun photo-op and then poof! Disappeared. To get a closer look at the photos, which I know you’ll want to do, simply click on them to enlarge and then hit the back button to return to the blog. Don’t our outfits complement each other fairly well, as though it was planned? I don’t even know the guy.

Then there’s Zolo with his white beard. Depending on his chapeau du jour, he can resemble a salty sea cap’n, a mountain man or Santy Claus.

Have cameras will travel is our motto, so naturally we had our dueling shooting apparatuses ablazin. Here are some of the pictures we took while roaming about. It never ceases to amuse us that what we see is both so similar and yet different.

For example, we both took aim at mannequin heads with dark beards, were drawn to horsie heads, hands, feet, numbers and letters.

After browsing for a bit, it was coffee time. We asked the advice of a local where to get “a good cup of coffee,” and we were confidently pointed in the right direction. Peshaw! It was a weak and bitter cup, so nasty that I could not drink it. “Double, double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble;” a handy quote from MacBeth to mumble under one’s breath instead of swearing when one is disappointed. And “one” would be me.

I left bereft. Okay, I admit, that’s overstating things a bit (not really). And so, because of the sad, sad, sad, sad coffee affair, I was primed and ready to notice the man carrying a large and sturdy cup of coffee high over his head at the next antique store. He was holding it like it was something very precious and valuable, which I understood deeply and profoundly. I almost stopped him as we passed on the steep staircase to ask where he’d found his cuppa God’s blessing, but he seemed intent on a mission.

A few moments later, we heard bursts of laughter and went to the front of the store to suss out the source of amusement. Oh my, it turns out the owners had been punked by a professional actress and a man with a hidden camera, can you guess where? Inside his “coffee” cup. I knew that dude was protecting it like it was liquid gold, but I never guessed there was a camera inside and that he was holding it up high to film the store. There’s probably images of me on the cutting room floor drooling.

The practical joke was sponsored by Dodge, a commercial in the making about “cars and freedom.” I’ve added a link here so you can watch a 60 second clip and get the gist of their Challenger campaign. http://lybio.net/dodge-challenger-2010-cars-and-freedom/autos-vehicles/

The tag line is “Here is a couple things America got right, cars and freedom.” In the clip, it’s a battle scene with the Red Coats. In comes the cavalry to save the day with George Washington at the wheel.

In the upcoming Dodge commercial, the premise is to have the professional actress (you can see her and the coffee cup filmographer caught on digital by moi in the throes of caffeine withdrawal) act like a woman who is trying to sell her family’s heirloom pictures. She claims that her relatives knew George Washington and has documentation to prove it. Of course, this intrigues the antique dealer and when she has him hooked, she pulls out beautifully rendered aged and sepia-toned photographs with supposed family members, all in period clothing, standing next to George Washington. Next to a 2010 Dodge Challenger. Yeah….right.

The appraiser instantly knows this is impossible and tries gently to inform the “old lady” that they did not have cameras or cars in the 1770’s. Oh, but this actress can act! She is insulted, swears those are her relations, etc. etc., making the job of refusing to buy her “valuable” photographs more difficult by the minute.

Meanwhile, all of this is being secretly filmed for the commercial including the moment when the shopkeeper knows he’s the happy victim of a practical joke. Hence all the laughter and ruckus. I took a photo of the souvenir the Dodge folks left on the counter. While it is a promotional shot of George and the car, it is not the one with all the ancestors in it, but you can still get the idea. This commercial is not finished yet, so shhhh, you heard about it here first.

I think this is what Kimmmm meant by my story-arc being more comical than dramatical. I’m just wandering about, minding my own business, hanging out with friends, shopping, taking photos, trying to sip coffee and we run across a delightful practical joke/commercial in the making.

A fun afternoon, a wonderful evening and hopefully, an impending trip to the Big Apple.

Oh, and speaking of ads, our jewelry and my mug is featured in this week’s Saturday Market ad for the Eugene Weekly and the Register-Guard and the upcoming Bach Festival. Here is a close-up of the rotary phone dial plate necklace I’m wearing in the ad that I designed out of the beautiful piece my father sent me. How about that? It was Father’s Day and my dad sends me a unique item to create with. Thank You!

Awesome, Possum

You may or may not know this, but I have a numbers thing. I find comfort in alignment and feel a sense of calm when things add up. For example, since the odometer of the century turned over my age adds up to the current year. I’m 46, so 4 + 6 = 10. Last year, in 2009, I was 45; in 2008…I think you can do the math.

I was 43 while our country was operating under the influence of the 43rd President and I turned 44 when we elected our 44th Commander in Chief. There’s harmony in them there numbers.

And I’m also date oriented. Yesterday marked 30 years since Mt. St. Helens blew her top. There must be something about temperatures rising and guns during the month of May because 27 years ago today, the infamous Diane Downs shot her three children.

And, 12 years ago this week, Kip Kinkel went on a killing rampage known as the Thurston High School shooting. Same month, same year, Brynn Hartman shot her husband, actor and comedian Phil Hartman while he was sleeping and then turned the deadly gun on herself.

On a lighter note, today is also the 48th anniversary of Marilyn Monroe singing her oft imitated breathy rendition of “Happy Birthday Mr. President” to John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Okay, that’s enough of trivial pursuit. Whoops, I stand corrected; this entire blog is froth, little slices of life served on trifle crackers. Bon appétit!

Phew! What a whirlwind road trip. We were home from Medford for about a minute and a half before turning right around and heading north to Seattle for the University District Street Fair, otherwise known as U-District.

Intending to avoid the worst traffic both Portland and Seattle have to offer, we decided to begin our long weekend meeting up with Nanny Bee Bugg (our photographer friend), for lunch at an Indian restaurant. This way, we could toodle around Portland for the day and glide into Seattle after rush hour.

We chose this restaurant on purpose because they’ve been known to serve a particular dish that appeals to our darker humor. If you read last week’s entry, you’ll recall we stayed with friends in southern Oregon who adopted two goats that currently live in their house.

For some deep-seated Freudian mystery, each time we stay with them, we have this hankering to eat goat curry. Although admittedly, I would be insulted and appalled if, after friends stayed with us, they desired to try kitty cat curry.

Hypocrisy aside, we were disappointed to discover that the Indian restaurant did not have it for Thursday’s lunch buffet. Oh well, there’s always Seattle.

After vindaloo and rice pudding, Nanny Bee Bugg drove us to the Northwest Industrial section of the Rose City, introducing us to Macleay park, a forest within a metropolis. This stunning gulch of tall timbers was a gift to the City of Portland in 1897. Pine trees, ferns, a babbling brook and an abandoned stone building named “The Witch’s Castle” made for a delightful respite.

Caravanning across town, we meandered through antique stores in the Sellwood neighborhood and ordered coffee at The Blue Kangaroo. We were invited to select our own preference of beans they’ve roasted themselves. The barista then ground them and made us each a delicious cup of pour-over coffee. Strong and full-bodied, just the way we like it.

I often do my best photography with a cup of coffee in one hand and a camera in the other. As I’ve mentioned before, I do not study my subjects, but simply aim and shoot at whatever catches my attention in the blink of an eye. If they turn out, it’s the luck of the draw. Groom is patient, and his work is beautiful. My random way comes from an intuitive place and I’m often surprised later to discover what I’ve shot, as it all happens so quickly.

I could be called the Impatient photographer or the Promiscuous photographer. Wait, that doesn’t sound right. I meant that I take optimal advantage of the digital age and refuse to limit myself based on the old standard of finite film. I take the camera with me everywhere, wearing it like a favorite piece of clothing.

Back to window shopping in Sellwood. We wandered into a posh store celebrating its three week anniversary. That was weeks, not years. Heeding my father’s advice from childhood, I looked at the store’s inventory with my eyes not my hands until I spotted the fur blanket draped over a fainting couch. I had to touch it to see if it was real or faux. Flipping over the tag, it read, “Possum $1,200.” I yanked my hand away almost as quickly as if it had said skunk.

“Groom, you gotta see this,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear across the empty store. Curious to see what I found, he sauntered over. “Pet it,” I suggested.

“Oh, that’s soft,” he said.

“Yeah and it’s twelve hundred dollars worth of possum,” I say with all the flourish of a big reveal.

“Gross.”

The overly made-up clerk came to the possum’s defense. “It’s called eco-luxury.”

Now here’s where, in an alternate universe, I might have been able to keep my mouth shut, but in this reality, well, we all know that didn’t happen.

“Eco-luxury… is that fancy talk for road kill?”

The clerk did not care for my observation. Her way of showing disapproval, since she could neither smile or frown (I’m guessing Botox), was to ignore my question and instead, correct the way I said “Eco.” In my mouth, it came out sounding like echo, as in “eco-friendly.”

She hissed, “It’s eeeeeko-luxury.” Then, to make the road kill blanket appear more exotic, she emphasized the detail that the possums came all the way from New Zealand.

Groom didn’t miss a beat. “Even if they bought them their own seats on the flight over, that’s still a pretty good mark-up.”

Clerk glared at us. “Bet you’re sorry you let our kind in here,” I say, waving goodbye and wishing her a happy three-week anniversary.

And with that, it was just about time to bid our friend adieu and continue the drive to Seattle. Our late night arrival didn’t pan out exactly as we had imagined. Even at 10 o’clock at night, the traffic was bumper to bumper often to the point of standstill.

After we finally arrived and shlepped our belongings up two flights of stairs (no elevator), I was a wee tired. I started to brush my teeth and the experience woke me up with full alert precision. Groom says he’d never seen that particular expression on my face before. I loaded my toothbrush with shaving cream and went to town polishing my pearly off-whites.

Now I know what you’re probably thinking - What kind of idiot uses shaving cream to brush their teeth with? Are you imagining an aerosol can with a push-top lid? Me too, but noooo.

It’s my turn to ask the question. What kind of genius thinks it’s a good idea to package shaving cream and toothpaste in the exact same type of tube?? In my defense, it was late and I thought I had fished the shaving cream from my toiletries kit and set it on the edge of the tub out of reach. Oops.

Let me tell you, that is one disgusting flavor even if the label dubs it “mint.”

Our Friday in Seattle was perfection. Riding the bus downtown, we had all day to play, taking photos, shopping and being touristas.

Of course, we had to visit our favorite shop, the John Fluevog shoe store, and er, um, yes we each found a pair to take home. Near Pike’s Place Market, we tried an African restaurant and ordered, you guessed it, goat curry. Yucky! It was mostly all bones and what little meat there was tasted exactly what one might imagine goat to be like; fat, tough and gristly. The sponge bread was rather curious, though.

If you ever find yourself in Seattle and you like coffee, by all means, treat yourself to the Italiano hand-crafted by Roland at Ancient Grounds. Not only is it likely to be the best cup you’ll ever encounter west of the Tiber, but the scintillating conversation and fabulous collection of art will knock your socks off.

One of the oddities of the weekend was a display window for an eyeglasses shop. Hmmm, doesn’t sound quite right, but when I typed “eye glass shop” the word combination evoked images of a boutique specializing in glass eyes. Then, when I try “glasses shop,” that made me think of fragile drinking cups.

The macabre display was in a window for eyeglasses. Two full shelves of white doves (stuffed, plastic, felt?) lay on their sides with eye glasses positioned over them. At first glance I thought, “Uh-oh, the shopkeeper doesn’t realize the birds look dead. Maybe the birds couldn’t stay upright.” I voiced my concern and Groom says, “Uh, honey, lookey there.”

I follow his pointed index finger and sucked in my breath. With the arrows impaling the birds, I changed my mind. I came to the quick conclusion that the shopkeeper did indeed realize the birds looked dead. That’s Seattle for you.

We considered attending the Kurt Cobain and Andy Warhol exhibit at SAM (the Seattle Art Museum), but honestly? we didn’t feel like spending the $15 each for entrance tickets. We’ll probably kick ourselves later, but looking at the poster, I asked Groom if they dug up Cobain’s bones?

“Nah, that’s from an album cover,” he informed me, but the gruesome imagery, knowing he committed suicide, made me want to stay outside in the sunshine, smelling all the gorgeous flowers and nibbling on the chocolate pasta samples at the Farmer’s Market.

As for U-District, the street fair was pretty good, although it began quirky enough. Up at 5 o’clock, we were on site by 6am navigating the parking gauntlet. We unloaded our booth and accoutrements, parked, then spent the next two hours setting up. By this time, we were hungry and breakfast beckoned. Returning before 10am, we were greeted by a young woman with an official looking badge. She introduced herself and apologized for what she was about to impart. “I don’t know anything, except you might have to move your booth.”

What??

Looooong story short, after waiting a nail-biting amount of minutes, the fire marshal appeared and explained that the fire department needed access to the water source hidden behind our booth and a U.S. post box. Well, the post box was cemented and bolted down, so our booth was the issue. Um, but that was the 10’ X 10’ space the show told us to set up in, so now what? Having to move is NOT what an artist wants to hear 15 minutes before a show officially opens, especially when everything is already in place and getting it that way took two hours.

When we removed our “back door” (white tarp) and showed them that our fabric was attached with Velcro, the fire chief allowed us to stay with a warning; that if a fire broke out, the firemen would bust through our booth. I calculated the risk. If a fire broke out that close, then I probably wouldn’t be staying in it anyway, looking quickly for the nearest exit.

Unbeknownst to me, the same thing had happened to another vendor across the lane while we were at breakfast. She had been forced to move and the vendors were now waiting for us to return, anticipating how we might take the news. Apparently, this whole little drama was playing out around us and I had no inkling that I was being observed. Throughout the weekend, the vendors in our neighborhood introduced themselves one by one, telling me what I looked like from their perspective. Gulp.

All I can say is thank God I was in a good mood! I did not panic, yell, get aggravated, but as one candle maker described, “You were solid.” I think that’s a compliment? She imitated my body posture and mimicked my impassive expression. It was a queer feeling to learn that a number of people were watching for my reaction while I had no idea.

Other highlights included selling the Exlax necklace to a University of Washington Professor (Whoo hoo!), sipping Bubble Tea with tapioca balls from our favorite place, Oasis, and hanging out with my author friend (her book is rated second to Harry Potter by popularity).

We concluded the trip Sunday night with an overnighter at God’s Minion in Portland, sharing a lovely visit and good food and then driving home to Eugene on Monday.

Gee, think this is long enough? If you read it all the way through, congratulations. Hope you enjoy a few of our photos from the trip and we’ll see you next time.