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Enjoy, laugh, disagree or simply empathize with those who lived life in THE sixties and are now rockin' life in THEIR sixties, and beyond.


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Are you guilty of smuggling shoes into Canada?


Slowly step out of the car and show me your shoes.

The comments made this week by Donald Trump about scuffy contraband shoes being smuggled into Canada is just too delicious for this Canadian serial shoe wearer to ignore. In one of his latest unhinged rants Trump attempted to horrify patriotic Americans into vilifying Canada and mistakenly defend protectionism. By informing them that Canadians were so desperate for shoes and to avoid Canadian duties (or tariffs as he called them, which are not the same thing) he announced that we make covert trips to the United States to purchase and smuggle their prized and precious footwear back into Canada. Then, in order to deceive those pesky Canadian border security agents, we toss our old straw clogs at the border in Buffalo, scuff up our new made-in-America Reeboks and trip across the border undetected, fooling those filthy Canadian revenuers. What more proof do Americans need that Canada is a terrible place?

I have a confession. In fact, any Canadian who has ever visited the United States would probably admit to being guilty of the same thing. I have purchased shoes in the United States and brought them back to Canada. But I’m confused. I didn’t realize what I was doing was wrong, immoral or unpatriotic. And I certainly didn’t break any laws so there was no need to scuff up my shiny new shoes to fool border security because I’m legally allowed to bring back up to $900.00 in merchandise duty-free after an absence of a particular number of days from Canada. If I exceed the legal spending limits, then I’m prepared to pay duty to Revenue Canada for the chance to pick up something different from what I might find at home. And what sane woman in her right mind would ever scuff up her new shoes anyway?

“Her” shoe closet.

So how is this hurting anyone? I supported American business. I kept border security agents employed by checking my passport and sitting in their little booth to ask me a few simple questions to ensure I’m not packing heat. And the banks rejoiced at the service charges and exchange costs they levied when I converted my Canadian dollars to American. If I hurt anyone, it’s probably China, the mother lode of cheap shoes. And, of course, this whole exercise is moot if you’re a man; everyone knows that men only own two pairs of shoes, one brown and one black—unless they’re under 30 in which case they may also own a pair of runners. Cross-border shopping is a non-issue for men.

“His” shoe closet.

The ironic thing about this whole fiasco is that if Donald Trump actually cross-border shopped like real people, he’d realize that we have far better quality shoes in Canada than they have in the United States. Many of our shoes are Italian imports thanks to our large Italian immigrant population who have created businesses here. See, Donald—immigration is a good thing. The quality and styles of what we can get here are far superior to what most American stores offer and our prices are competitive. No one in the world manufactures better winter boots and coats than Canadians and thanks to our global business practices we have access to imported as well as locally-manufactured merchandise that is far better than south of the border. Just ask Meghan Markle, Duchess of Sussex who regularly sports Canadian-made brands.

Pssst! Mr. Trump. Wanna buy some protection?

Sorry Mr. Trump. You got some fake news there. You’ve somehow taken the issue of non-existent Canadian protectionism and twisted it into something you hope will justify American protectionism, but you’ve shot yourself in the foot. And unless you were wearing genuine Canadian-made steel-toed Kodiaks, Timberlands, Royer, Canada West, Caterpillar or other superior brands made in Canada, you could be missing a few lower digits. You’re certainly missing something, and that’s not fake news.

Here’s Greg Perry’s (The Toronto Star) take on the situation:

 


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Girls just gotta have shoes


The objects of my affection.

It was love at first sight. As soon as my eyes landed on that incredible pair of Jimmy Choo python pumps in the May issue of Vogue I found myself longing not only for the shoes but for my twenty-year-old feet to put in them. Even though it’s been years, or more like decades since I’ve been able to strut my stuff in killer heels, the old longing and feeling of empowerment bestowed on us by stilettos never leaves us. I could so easily picture my former self wearing those python beauties around the office in my power suit or slipping them on with skinny jeans (the jeans, not me) for a stylish stroll through the mall on a Saturday. Just looking at those babies made my heart beat faster; my imagination conjured up fantasies I haven’t had in years. There was a giant smile on my face just thinking about the possibilities those beauties could bestow on my life. Boomer women totally understand how Cinderella was completely transformed as soon as she put on those magic glass slippers. It’s no fairy tale.

If only we could buy new feet.

In the late sixties and early seventies I lived and worked in downtown Toronto. Too broke and too cheap to invest in subway tokens, I hoofed it everywhere—in heels, usually on the run. From Bloor Street to Front Street I made my way around the downtown core to and from work, to meet friends, to shop and out at night, always on foot. And those young, size seven feet were always shod in the latest fashion. I’ve twisted ankles falling off my platforms, caught spike heels in sidewalk grates and suffered burns and blisters on the balls of my feet from the heat of summer sidewalks burning through thin leather soles. Not once did I think my feet would outlive their best-before date.

Baby boomer women now have a different set of criteria when shopping for shoes. Toe cleavage and strappy high heels have given way to arch supports and low heels with rubber soles, and not the kind the Beatles sang about in 1965. Back in the day, our shoe purchases were treated like decadent works of art, affirmation of our sexiness and stylishness. I’d actually set newly purchased shoes on the diningroom table to admire them when I brought them home. Or I’d place them on my night table so they’d be the first things I’d see when I woke up in the morning. Talk about getting a high. Gorgeous shoes were like little magic carpets that carried us into a fantasy land where we were invincible. And, unlike dress or pant sizes, shoe size was immaterial. In fabulous shoes, our feet looked great no matter what size they were.

After clomping around in rubber sandals I recently squeezed my feet into a pair of stylish suede boots that don’t see much action these days. My back hurt from bending down to put the socks and then the boots on and my feet felt like they were going to explode by the time I got home from shopping. Mes pieds are just not used to such harsh discipline and they object strenuously to any form of confinement. I soooo miss the feet I had when I was twenty years old.

I wonder if those python Jimmy Choos come with industrial strength arch supports and cushy rubber soles? If I win the lottery, perhaps I’ll buy them and prop them up on my mantle, just to admire them like the works of art they are. I could reflect back on the days when I used to listen to the original Rubber Soul in my Mary Quant mini skirts and platforms—back when I could still wear fantasmic shoes. As the Everly Brothers sang so eloquently and in perfect harmony, “All I have to do is dream. Dream. dream, dream”, the siren song of Jimmy Choo and those fabulous shoes.

You’re beautiful mes très chères.


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There’s no business like shoe business


While we can understand Carrie Bradshaw’s appetite for shoes, most of us don’t have her budget.

You’ll definitely feel less guilty about what you spend on shoes when you learn that design mogul Michael Kors Holdings Ltd. just shelled out $1.5 billion to buy Jimmy Choo Ltd. I know I felt vindicated when I compared that shoe purchase to my own weakness for buying too many pairs of FitFlops™. At least my brand of choice provides a level of comfort. Fabulous shoes are like little magic carpets. When we’re wearing great shoes we feel like we can soar above the crowds. We achieve a level of fabulousness that is unmatched and unrelated to size. Yummy shoes are works of art, transporters of emotion, a reflection of our personality. Regardless of our waistline, when our feet look great, we feel great.

It’s obvious to women that most shoes today are designed by men. The styles offered are tantamount to foot binding and even that’s illegal in a certain country not known for a strong history of human rights. Do the stores actually sell those five-inch heels to real women, of any age? So many shoes today are not designed to actually walk in but should be displayed in a curio cabinet or alongside the crystal decanters on your diningroom buffet. And who uses crystal decanters any more. They’re obsolete; their practicality has been usurped by their lack of practicality, which is why I see so many Louboutins, Valentinos and Jimmy Choos on a resale site I like to spy on (my guilty pleasure), with the notation “worn once”.

This must be what heaven looks like.

Boomers are past wearing stilettos. We had our day several decades ago when we could run to work in high heels, eschew arch supports and gad about town in flat-footed cheap sneakers. Who among us hasn’t fallen off our platforms and twisted an ankle? We’re now in the market for industrial strength arch supports and deeply cushioned soles. Many of us swear by Birkies although my foot doc isn’t a fan saying Birkenstock soles are too hard. Others prefer sneakers. I’ve had good luck with Eileen Fisher shoes (only when I can get them on sale) while anything by Franco Sarto cripples my feet. One thing I have learned over the years is that good shoes are worth the extra money. They’re more comfortable; they last longer and they generally fit better. Quality leather is flexible and it breathes. If you’ve ever been afflicted with plantar fasciitis (an inflamed ligament running from the ball of the foot to the heel which generates severe pain when you put your heel down) or other foot ailments, you’re forever diligent about footwear.

With some research and consultation with friends, stylish, comfortable footwear can be found. The internet and various fashion blogs for baby boomer women are helpful in finding what is comfortable and fashionable for our generation. It’s not mission impossible. My personal favourite brand is FitFlop™ designed by a British foot doctor. I own several pair of the sandals and now that they’ve started producing sneakers and other shoes and boots, I’m expanding my inventory. The soles are soft with a slight rise at the heel and good arch supports. I normally wear a size 7 shoe but FitFlops fit large so I wear a size 6 in the sandals and a 6.5 in shoes. Absolutely love ’em. Here’s a link to Amazon if you want to check them out. Click here for FitFlop on Amazon.

I’m not sure Michael Kors got good value for their $1.5 billion investment in Jimmy Choo but we’ve all made our share of mistakes in shoe purchases over the years and have the dust collectors in the backs of our closets to prove it. Shoes evoke such intense attachments, even our mistakes are hard to part with. I’d love to hear your comments on what footwear works and doesn’t work for you. Tell me your stories (click Leave a Comment, above, top left), the good, the bad and the ugly so we can share and learn from our experiences.

What shoes work best for you?

 

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These feet were made for walking


Once upon a time, in my glory days, through wind and rain and sleet and hail.

One of the fashion bloggers I like to follow (click here for Susan After 60) has recently admitted she can longer wear her beloved heels and is now sporting fashionable flats on a regular basis. Susan lasted longer than most of us. I clearly remember wearing high heels in my younger days and treating the shoes and my feet like they were invincible. For many years I lived and worked in downtown Toronto and could walk to and from work. I’ve never been a morning person and often ended up running to work so I wouldn’t be late. Sprinting through the downtown streets in gorgeous heels it never once occurred to me that one day my graceful high arches would rebel.

Over the years I started paying more attention to comfort although I never did stoop to wearing running shoes back and forth from the office. The lower right drawer of my desk was filled with all my gorgeous fashion shoes that I switched into as soon as I sat down and removed my comfie walking shoes. Nothing is more empowering than strutting around the office in sexy heels. Inevitably, as my chronological age went up, the heels went down. By the time I retired, I could barely get through the office Christmas party in heels.

Then it happened—plantar fasciitis. It’s an inflammation of the elastic ligament that runs between the ball of the foot and heel. You’ll know you have it as soon as you put your foot on the floor when you get out of bed in the morning. Putting your foot down and walking will generate excruciating pain in the bottom of your heel. You can somewhat work it out as the day goes on, but it comes roaring back and can last years.

The first time I experienced plantar fasciitis, I cured it with hip replacements. Being off my feet for awhile after the surgery allowed the inflamed plantar fascia to calm down and heal. I was mercifully pain-free until about three months ago. Then, one morning it returned in my right foot with a vengeance. Turning to Google, I tried every home remedy recommended including ice, massage, reflexology, rolling a golf ball and tennis ball under my foot, stretching exercises and nothing worked. Since another hip replacement seemed a bit over-the-top, I visited a foot doctor who gave me a shot of cortisone in the bottom of my heel to reduce inflammation. It has mitigated the pain somewhat but I’m not out of the woods yet.

I have several pairs of FitFlops and prefer the thicker-soled version. They’re available at Hudson’s Bay, Ron White Shoes and on-line.

My future now consists of footwear with industrial strength arch supports and lots of cushioning and support. I’ve always had good luck with FitFlops™ (click here for link, and they’re on sale), a branded sandal designed by a British foot doctor, but I may have to opt for something even more structured. We blithely take our various body parts for granted when they’re working as they should but as soon as something like our backs, feet or knees crap out, we gain an immeasurable respect and appreciation for our parts when they’re healthy and functioning. I’ve been unable to walk the dog or even myself for a few months and I can’t wait to get back to normal. I’ll thank our spirit sisters every day when I’m fully mobile again.

I refuse to say goodbye to my tough-looking biker boots just yet though. With a closet full of lovely shoes I’m heavily invested in healing. Women who love shoes will understand when I tell them about the ritual performed when I bring new shoes home. I place them, like a work of art on the diningroom table to admire, fresh out of the box. Then, at bedtime, I move them to my night table where they’ll be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. Perhaps it’s a throwback to growing up in the more austere fifties and sixties when we were lucky to get a new pair of shoes every couple of years. Boomer sisters will understand the magic powers of gorgeous shoes. They elevate not only our legs but our very souls. From fuscia pink suede platforms I purchased in London, England in the swinging sixties to mustard yellow suede platforms worn in my tottering sixties . . . and all the years in between, shoes have been part of beautiful memories.

Listen. Do you hear it too? The sirens’ call.

When I see retail sales assistants prancing around in gorgeous four-inch python-printed strappy heels, I react like a grouchy old lady (which if you regularly read my blogs, you’ll understand). “Enjoy them while you can” I say. “Someday you’ll be wearing Mephistos and Birkenstocks like me.” But I promise they’ll be python printed or bright red patent leather. And you’ll never see me wearing them with socks. That would just be too embarrassing. At least not until I’m in ‘the home’ and by then I’ll be too stoned on medical marijuana-infused gummy bears and too blissfully unaware of my feet to care.

Footnote: I receive no financial or other benefit from mentioning FitFlops™, Hudson’s Bay or Ron White Shoes in this post.

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Birkies are back


Birkenstock sandals are a fashion favourite of many celebs including the Olsen twins.

Birkenstock sandals are a fashion favourite of many celebs including the Olsen twins.

All the fashion mags are currently featuring runway shows by big-name designers like Gucci with models wearing amped up Birkenstocks—yes, those comfortable earth-mother shoes once associated only with granola eaters and lesbians. My own reaction is when did they ever disappear? I’m reasonably cool and my Boomer girlfriends are über-cool and we’ve always loved to shop in the comfort of Birkenstocks, Mephistos or similar feet-friendly attire. We have about-town walking-out comfortable shoes and when our Birkies are past their prime they make great slippers for around the house.

Fitflops are available in Canada at Hudson's Bay and are on sale this week.

Fitflops are available in Canada at Hudson’s Bay and are on sale this week or you can Google them for other offers.

My own personal favourite brand is FitFlops™ which are designed in the U.K. They’re not cheap but I absolutely love them and over the past few years have accumulated six pairs. They caress and cushion the soles of your feet in all the right places and provide good arch support, an old-lady essential. Since I’ve been wearing them I’ve found it impossible to go out the door in anything but.  Despite having a closet full of fabulous shoes which are hardly ever worn, I keep defaulting to my trusty FitFlops. I can motor for miles in them without getting blisters, rubbing, burning or cramping.

FitFlops are my personal favourites and I have this style in black and beige.

FitFlops are my personal favourites and I have this style in black and beige, but I sure do like this red colour.

I highly suspect that Gucci, D&G and the other designers saw me and my trendsetter Boomer girlfriends out living life to the fullest in our comfies and figured they’d better jump on the bandwagon or miss out. As followers of fashion and a huge marketing demographic we can no longer be ignored. Hopefully it’s just a matter of time now until designers start releasing waistbands and dropping hem lengths too. We’re sick and tired of stupid fashions that cater only to the firm of flesh who weigh less than 100 lbs. and are 6 ft. tall.

Birkenstock sandals and FitFlops are both available in an almost unlimited number of colours, designs and materials.

Birkenstock sandals and FitFlops are both available in an almost unlimited number of colours, designs and materials.

In case you’re thinking about opting for the cheap knock-offs of Birkenstocks and similar brands, forget it. The quality just isn’t there and they don’t do the job. Our feet have to last us a few more decades yet and it’s not worth short-changing them. Amazon doesn’t yet carry foot transplants. Buy the real thing. Buy ’em to fit and happy motoring.