Mr. Weatherman, you’re not the boss of me
On our third date, my husband took me…this was January in Boston, mind you…to a romantic dinner in Harvard Square and then a stroll through the snowy cobblestone paths. My mistake—I was wearing a new pair of Gucci heels. Made to impress, sure to distress. Within the first block of handholding loveliness, I navigated myself right on top of a hidden grate covered in a layer of slush. Laughter turned to tears, as I pulled my shoe out, looked at the tag of ripped leather and freaked out. My poor husband-to-be just stared at me in astonishment (somehow a string of dates followed and a subsequent marriage, so I guess he’s not easily phased).
Dealing with winter sole-stice. It’s not the winter winds (ok, my hair doesn’t really like them). Not the frost on the windshield (ok, my nails don’t like that). What bugs me most about the cold season? Having to ask my meteorologist what I should wear. I mean the man dresses nicely, true. But I doubt he knows the first thing about cuffed suede boots or five-inch stilettos. But yet, there I am, hanging on his every word. Does my entire outfit need a weather-induced overhaul because my chosen shoes just won’t accommodate? With rain and snow, fashion goes out the window. I’m forced to trade fashion for function. And, oh look, Cheryl’s wearing her Uggs again.
No more. I’m putting my foot down. This winter, I’m taking matter into my own hands and having a shoe-down with nature. I’ve found a few tricks to help undo damage done, and some helpers (one tried-and-true, one brand new) for keeping my cool in the cold.
I have to admit. I do laugh when I see someone slip on ice. I know. Childish. And it’s certainly not funny when it’s me. So I started putting on those scratchy stickers on the bottoms of all my shoes (Foot Petals make good ones that don’t fall off) and I haven’t wiped out yet. I also discovered these new plastic miracles, SoleMates High Heeler. They pop onto my stilettos and ouila! No more disappearing heel disasters.
If the stormy weather has gotten the best of your leather shoes and left salt lines, white vinegar and water are your best friends. Just dab on and let air-dry away from heaters. If the victim is your favorite suede shooties, work quickly to rub off dirt with an eraser or emery board. Then fluff the nap by brushing with a clean toothbrush or cloth. For scuffs, dip a cloth in water and baking soda and rub gently.
So Mr. Weather Guy, I will wear what I want. Throw at me whatever you wish. I’m armed and ready. And if I ask really nicely, my husband might even drop me off at the door.
Editorial director to marketing specialist, copy writer to copy editor, Cheryl Fenton’s finger is no stranger to the pulse of today’s trends and goings-on in the worlds of fitness, fashion, travel, nightlife and beauty. And in 2007, she added motherhood to her ever-growing list of expertise. Maintaining a strong relationship with her first love of magazines, Cheryl now juggles her exciting career and a never-boring life with her daughter Cadence. With bylines in Glamour, Cooking Light, Wallpaper, Women’s Health & Fitness, Ocean and Elegant Wedding, and marketing creations for Global Goddess Beauty, Pur~lisse, Stride Rite and New Balance, her voice is well-known in the beauty, fitness and fashion industries. Her Easy Peasy blog will offer tips, tricks and products to help all moms-on-the-go be beautiful, fashionable, stylish and live life—all in record time. Cheryl is thankful for her laptop, IPhone and naptimes. For more about Cheryl, visit www.cherylfenton.com.
Mr. Weatherman, you’re not the boss of me On our third date, my husband took me…this was January in Boston, mind you…to a romantic dinner in Harvard Square and then a stroll through the snowy cobblestone paths. My mistake—I was wearing a new pair of Gucci heels. Made to impress, sure to distress. Within […]