Army of Forgotten Shoes

Summer is almost over, where did the summer go? I know it's not officially the end of summer, but you know what I mean - tomorrow is September - what? So I was perusing through my September issue of Vogue - love it! The fall fashions as always are breathtaking and depressing. Why depressing? Because I have no budget for fall fashions this year :( I mean not yet, I always find a way one way or another. Any way it just seems like I finally put my fall/winter clothes/shoes away a few months ago.

When I opened my closet I realized that I had an astounding number of boxes with hidden shoes, I say hidden because if it's not right in front of you when you open your closet, then you tend to forget what you have, the same applies to clothes. I've always found that taking out a pair of shoes that have been "forgotten" is a great way to cheer myself up and re-energize my current wardrobe. So I went through all my closets (I have three, but it's not enough) and pulled out the boxes and went on a trip down memory lane. This is an account of a select group of designer shoes and memories:

Ah, there they were, my sexy, black leather patent shoes with a killer heel also known in my home as The Tango Shoes. I put those on and I was immediately transported to the night when Little Dragon performed at Wrongbar and I wore those shoes. I looked taller, slimmer and my butt looked awesome. That was a good night, and a great night for my hair, along with my sleek, black ensemble and red lips. Oh by the way, Grant Bedford was there, along with Thalia and The Complicator! After a few hours, the killer heels did a number on my feet and trying to walk out of the club like a normal person was excruciatingly painful.

The next box revealed my strappy, flirty Cinderella Shoes - guaranteed to make you feel like a princess, regardless of the outfit, fancy or not. I had worn these bejeweled shoes to my cousin's wedding a few years back and my shoes garnered just as much attention as my oh, so gorgeous dress. I was the belle of the ball, yes I know you're not supposed to upstage the bride on her wedding day, blah, blah, blah - but I looked great that night! This relationship started out lovey dovey and turned bitter by the end of the night, like they do with all my favourite shoes.

Then I came across another pair of designer shoes, the most expensive shoes I had in my closet. My S&M Inspired Shoes, black patent leather with a peekaboo cutout and triangular heel. The shoe salesperson had guaranteed that these shoes would be comfortable to walk in, and I wouldn't be able to live without them. It turned out that these shoes turned on me, they are my enemy, I do not have a love affair with them as looks can be deceiving. These shoes were the most painful shoes I've ever had and challenges the notion that super expensive means great quality shoes.  I hate these shoes, they caused me so much pain, and continue to cause me pain when I look at them, when I'm reminded of how much they cost - boo hoo!

The next box revealed my Romantic Shoes, a sublime pair of two-toned rose and chocolate coloured pointy slingbacks. These shoes are a prized possession and when I put them on, I was taken back to the Marcus Miller Show at The Opera House, a couple of years back. That was a fun, summer night and I looked svelte in my plum and black ensemble with tousled hair and berry lips. There were a whole bunch of us that night, so I had to look good. Let's see, me of course, my sister Thalia, The Complicator, Grant Bedord (bonus), my friend Jenny, Thalia's friend The Professor, and The Complicator's "straight" male friend Miss Tobinsky (I'll explain in a later blog). Ah, it was a magical night indeed.

Last but not least, my Golden Goddess Shoes, one of my favourite pairs of dainty, gold strappy sandals. (Thalia has a pair too, we both couldn't resist). My fondest memory is seeing Marcus Miller (the first time) at the Toronto Jazz Festival.  I was wearing a form fitting, summery, light green dress with these shoes. I felt beautiful that evening and Grant Bedford's face lit up when he saw me. The Complicator gave me the look he always does, as if I'm too dressed up - whatever! Thalia looked drop dead gorgeous. She wore a black, Spanish inspired romantic, dress with a teal, silk ruffle scarf wrapped around her neck, and was wearing her black patent Talk to Me if You Dare slingbacks. Grant Bedford's mysterious friend appeared to be hypnotized by Thalia's presence. How can I say this, we looked marvelous! Thalia and I looked and felt  a-m-a-z-i-n-g. We made quite the entrance and left quite the impression, I'm sure of it!

Basically, a favourite or forgotten pair of shoes can change the way you look and feel in an instant. The right pair of shoes can infuse new life into an old outfit. Shoes can evoke a memory that is locked in a special or not so special place in your heart. Within each pair of forgotten shoes lies a secret sole. On the other hand, love hurts, you can look good on the outside and be dying of pain on the inside. But all in all it is a love affair that I will never give up!

Moody Girl Out.

New York I Love You

Well it's only been a couple of weeks since my whirlwind trip to NYC and I've been in a bit of a funk since I got back. It doesn't help that Mercury is in retrograde and there was a wicked full moon last week. I was close to turning from Moody Girl to a full on beast.

Anyway New York City was a-m-a-z-i-n-g! It makes Toronto look like a sleepy little town in comparison. There was so much excitement, lots of hustle and bustle, masses of people everywhere and a lot of tall, skinny bitches. Of course, there were museums, galleries, the best retail stores, restaurants and tall skinny bitches. I think I developed a bit of a complex after visiting. Suffice to say I'm not tall or er skinny, but in my head I sometimes think of myself as both (if that makes any sense). Well that particular delusional view didn't quite translate in NYC as I would every so often get a quick glance of my reflection. Yikes! Obviously there was something wrong with the glass and mirrors in New York as I seemed to appear a lot shorter and wider. Now I happen to be petite (don't like short) and curvy but fit (okay I'm working on the fit part) but because I'm small boned, I tend to give myself a pass more often than I should. Anyway, since I've been back, I've done a couple of workouts, I hope I can continue this rigorous routine.

The Complicator drove us everywhere and kept snapping at me the whole time as apparently I was unable to read the minuscule print on the map, walking too slow blah blah blah. Oh well, the price you pay for going on a trip with him. Of course he did enjoy my company, that's how he expresses his affection, by bossing me around! We were up at 7 am and didn't return to the hotel till well after midnight every day/night. The Complicator kept saying, "There is so much to do and to see". Yeah whatever, "You're killing me you stupid maniac", is what I was thinking. We barely spent any time at the lovely hotel we stayed at and missed cocktail hour there daily, due to his fanatical schedule.

Okay it was really hot and there was a lot of walking. I wanted to look cool so I took my best outfits and shoes but they didn't serve me well in the heat. Wrong fabrics clinging in the humidity not so sexy when outlining the wrong curves. I ended up looking totally disheveled, hair pulled back in a high ponytail and not as sophisticated as I had envisioned. I had to eventually resort to my uncool but very comfortable sandals and looked even shorter at that point. The Complicator didn't have to do anything special, he was totally casual in T-shirt and shorts and was still getting looks from tall skinny bitches. The Complicator commented that the women were in sick shape, I snarkily replied, "I didn't notice".

Okay so my highlight wasn't sitting next to Mickey Rourke, having breakfast at a charming Belgian restaurant, but rather when The Complicator and I ran into Grant Bedford. Who is he you ask? Well he's one of the most eligible bachelors who resides in Toronto but as of the past year has been living in NYC. He also happens to be The Complicator's friend (and mine). Okay so it wasn't a completely fortuitous meeting. I happened to email him the night before we were leaving, casually mentioning that we would be in NY and wondering if he was available so that we could get together for a drink and catch up. Much to my sheer delight he responded favourably. I tried to play it cool in front of The Complicator but inside I was jumping for joy. Okay so Grant Bedford is kind of like every character Hugh Grant has played, and there is something so charismatic about him that just makes me so happy anytime I'm around him. Ditto for The Complicator, he becomes a different person, much more likeable and fun (he is a Gemini after all). He's hardly that way with me these days. Anyway, I digress, Grant Bedford called The Complicator and suggested we meet in Williamsburg and go for dinner Saturday night. Yippee, I couldn't wait for Saturday night to come, Saturday was our SoHo day and we went to every gallery and store in the area until I was completely worn out by 6 pm. After the heat, the walking, the snippiness, I wasn't feeling as giddy by the end of the day. Then Grant Bedford changed the time from 7 pm, to 9 pm to 10 pm - I thought I was going to lose my friggin mind - come on already, I can't wait anymore.

Luckily there was a small window where I forced The Complicator to drive back to the hotel so I could freshen up, thank goodness for that. I was able to pull myself together and was finally pleased with the end results. I slipped back into my strappy heels even though my feet were killing me and wore my colourful va va voom dress. 10 pm finally came around and we met up in Williamsburg (oh yeah The Complicator was there too). There he was, just as youthful as ever with those dreamy brown eyes and boyish grin. However, Grant Bedford neglected to make reservations on a Saturday night, so we went to a few places before we could actually get seated. By the time dinner came around it was after midnight, but who cares about hunger pangs when you're with Grant Bedford. I felt like I was lit from within and grinning like a fool all night, so much so that The Complicator gave me a quizzical look a few times. I was laughing and so happy listening to Grant Bedford's narcissistic stories. Oh, he also mentioned that his current squeeze Tadpole (okay that's not her name) was moving in with him - yeah whatever, I totally blocked that out. Did I mention that I felt so confident and was getting a few looks at the restaurant and the waiter was totally flirting with me. It was a great confidence booster and just what I needed in the land of the beautiful people. Anyway, historically speaking, Grant Bedford has seen me with many different looks over the past decade and one thing has always been consistent, he always looks at me adoringly, like the first time we met. Seeing myself in his eyes was just what I needed to feel sexy again, and I did feel sexy. Half the time I forgot that The Complicator was even there. It was a magical evening indeed, the food tasted better, the wine tasted better, the ambiance was cozy, the music was perfect. A magnificent and memorable evening.

When Grant Bedford dropped us back at The Complicator's car, he gave me a kiss on both cheeks and just as I was exiting his car, he said, "I'll be back in Toronto in September, we should get together" the whole time eyes locked on me. You don't have to tell me twice, I've been counting the days since I got back!

Moody Girl Out.

When the Tough Gets Going, Hide Under a Rock

My summer has not gone the way I had initially planned. Wow, it has been a summer of humidity, bad hair and non stop obstacles that I've found myself up against. Well like so many people, I find myself in uber debt mode. Not having a full time job eventually gets to you faster than you realize. This stark realization for an avid shopper is the worst thing that can happen, with fall fashions right around the corner. Okay unlike most "debters" I am fully aware how much I owe on my credit cards and lines of credit. All I need now, is a damn job, but not just any job!

Okay, so the job hunt for my "dream job" continues, but I'm running out of time. Suddenly I find myself up against all the other new graduates who will work for a whole lot less. I'm trying to maintain my optimism but am slowly becoming disheartened as we approach August. I know that it's a matter of time before I land a job that I can be excited about, and tell myself it's all about timing.

My family whom I love dearly, drive me crazy on a day to day basis and at times make it impossible for me to focus on what I need to do for myself. Don't get me wrong, my mum is the best, so supportive and loving but… My sister Thalia is the family exception, and has been lovely and so supportive and encouraging. I am so lucky to have her as my sister and my best friend (Cue music).

There have been lots of ups and downs this summer. Thankfully the downs have been balanced with some ups, such as getting together with good friends, enjoying the patio weather and drowning my sorrows in Peach  Bellinis (my new favourite drink). I've seen my other best friend Lily, as much as possible this summer. She is the one person besides Thalia that I can confide in whole heartedly about anything and everything and is so supportive.

With the anniversary of my relationship with The Complicator approaching, I’ve been coming to terms with the fact that our relationship has been going from neutral to reverse, and this has intensified over the last year. So imagine my surprise when the invitation came from him, to go to NYC for the long weekend (Monday is a holiday here). I am very excited that we are staying in a charming, boutique hotel near Fifth Avenue, right in the heart of the city. I am so tired of talking, analyzing, philosophizing & wondering about the future. So instead I’m running away to enjoy galleries, museums, restaurants, (maybe shopping) and the sights and sounds of the most energetic city in the world! Perhaps a New York state of mind is just what I need!

Moody Girl Out.

Vodka Schmodka!

So when you send an email out with the subject heading "Girls' Night Out", it seems pretty self explanatory right? Apparently no-one reads the subject heading anymore. Okay, so my friend Karina asked me to put something together for a fun night out over the weekend to celebrate summer. So I figured because Karina is Russian, perhaps a night out at The Rasputin Vodka Bar would be a nice ode to her heritage. So it began with what was supposed to be the four of us, myself, Karina, Mariya & Anya. I had stated in my email that I needed to confirm the reservations for a seated area, but as the week progressed the numbers kept changing. Somehow my well constructed email was forwarded to random people who were adding their two cents and forwarding my email to all their contacts. The whole thing got out of control. People I didn't know were emailing me, saying they were coming and bringing their friends (no numbers specified). Then Karina's sister Lana, sent me an email saying she was coming with her new husband and his friend (a guy). Yeah okay, apparently the "Girls' Night Out" meant bring anyone and everyone regardless of what the subject heading implied! Anyway, I sent out a final email stating that I had made reservations for ten for a seated area and that the venue couldn't accommodate more people in a seated area. Extra guests are welcome, but a seated area is not guaranteed.

Well since it was no longer just the four of us, I decided to add to my invite list, starting with my sister Thalia, my friend Lily and a very last minute invite to my friend Shabana, who apparently was super excited about the Vodka selection, even though she's mostly a soda drinker. Lana, Karina's sister evidently took offence in me politely replying to her email, saying it was a girls's night and her husband and friend were welcome to join us later in the night. Well that didn't bode well with her and Lana sent out a group email to everyone saying, "No-one told her it was a girls' night out and they had made other plans". Emails continued to fly left and right with everyone copying the entire list to everyone. I couldn't help but feel like they were all thinking that I was anti-men all of a sudden. Are you kidding me?  No-one told you it was a girl's night out, can you read?

Suffice to say a fun night with the girls took on a life of its own. By this point, I couldn't care less if pets and aliens were coming to the Vodka Bar. Before the night commenced, Thalia cancelled due to a crisis at work, Lily just flat out changed her mind and the anonymous email group didn't show up, apart from Mariya's two friends who stopped by later (a guy and a girl).

At the Vodka Bar, none of us ended up doing Vodka shots and decided to drink everything but, Bellinis, Wine, Caesars and Tequila shots. The DJ was a hack of a DJ, not very impressive at all. I was told he would be playing house tunes and was excited. Instead he played forgotten 80s and 90s tunes and decided to take a break after playing two songs and would walk around and talk to people on the dance floor. This was the only DJ I had ever encountered that would let a track come to a complete halt, pause for a few minutes and then play the next track. Is this a joke baldie? Somebody fire his ass already!

Mariya, Anya and I, did some dancing in front of the giant fans on the dance floor. For a little while we were all having fun, with our faux photo shoot, and music video hair, entertaining ourselves by taking pictures of one another with three rotating cameras. Shabana looked like she was in another world and didn't move from her chair the entire time, but came in extremely handy in watching our purses. Mariya's guests looked like they had wandered in from an afternoon barbecue and were dazzled by the venue as if we were in a Las Vegas night club. Karina's mood fluctuated the entire night between euphoric and depressed and was looking for an introspective conversation. I said to her, "Honey, this isn't the right place for a deep conversation, call me tomorrow".

Just when there was a moment of harmony, with one good song playing, a mild buzz from my Tequila shot and happy faces on the dance floor, Karina picked a fight with the waitress. Her bossy streak came out, where every so often she feels the need to remind wait staff that they are there to wait on her. Way to go Karina! I decided it was best to leave, once I had apologized to the waitress. Time to go everyone, pack it up, Russian night is O.V.E.R.


Moody Girl Out.

Netflix Versus Fun Chics

I'm feeling extremely low key this week, with the full moon and a severe bout of PMS I just want to be left alone to brood for a couple of days. Over the weekend, I decided to finally sign up for Netflix to see what the hype is about. Last month I downgraded my cable to basic and I have no regrets, as there still isn't anything to watch on TV other than Y&R and The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Okay so about Netflix, one word, "wow"! It's fantastic, I love it.

In my university class last fall, Readings in Film & Television, I participated in countless discussions with all the fresh faced, tech savvy kids in my class about how the art of cinema is about appreciating films on the big screen in a proper movie theatre, and that the experience of watching a movie on a small computer screen in your bedroom is not the same thing. Well guess what, I was totally immersed in my movie watching on my laptop in my bedroom, all comfy and cozy. When my computer is working normally and doesn't feel like dial up Internet, with a click of a button I can be instantly transported into another world.

Since my studies in Film are now complete, I didn't realize how much I missed watching good films. With Netflix, I was engrossed all weekend with my favourite genre, "Foreign Films", even though the films I watched weren't exactly the best films script wise, (I could have written a better script in my sleep), I appreciated the art and creativity of making a low budget film, the subtle nuances of emotions conveyed on the screen with a mere look and the exotic music. Do I watch the characters or read the subtitles? So challenging but so enjoyable. I loved the solitude of watching a film sprawled out on my bed, even though I have a big screen TV in the living room. It was just me, my laptop and Netflix.

Anyway, my Russian friend Karina & a whole bunch of her Eastern European gal pals want to do a girls' night out this upcoming Saturday at a trendy lounge/club. When it was mentioned a few weeks ago, I was all for it but this week - the way I'm feeling, I'm not so sure. Part of me just wants to stay home in my lounge wear and watch Netflix on the weekend, while the other part of me is like, "What the hell is wrong with you?" I mean when did this become okay to stay home on a Saturday night? I am slowly morphing into one of those people who loves their leisure time so much, weekend or no weekend. In all honestly I've done the clubbing thing since I was 19 and now that I'm slightly older, only special live shows like Tortured Soul or Bajofondo can lure me out of seclusion for a night of dancing.

Karina leaves for Israel next week for 3 weeks and in all fairness her friends are a lot of fun. In fact, they think that I'm the cool one with the 411 on all the local haunts. This crowd is tough to please, it's a combination of single women, young divorcees and me. The ladies love to toast anything & everything, "Drink more wodka". No matter how many Vodka's you've had, it never seem adequate around them!  I remember a time, when I would live for the weekends, choose the designated club, select my favourite outfit in advance, confirm with my group (and by that I mean my sister Thalia and our friend Shabana) who it turns out hated clubs for years, but continued to go out with us from Thursday to Sunday, every week - for years, just so we could hang out! Plus back then, I could stomach multiple Tequila shots and Chocolate Martinis. Karina loves clubbing, she's 30 and wants to party every weekend, I just don't have the stamina or the inclination to get dolled up for her particular club selection, she likes Top 40 music, yeah, not my thing at all. If I'm going dancing it better be hardcore house tunes pulsating through every fiber of my being, in a dance frenzy with like minded dancers on the floor who are there solely for the music!

If the weather is hot and feels like summer (like it did last week) then perhaps I'll venture out for a fun Saturday night and drag my friend Lily out who is not a club person but is willing to try something new, in which case I would opt for a cool lounge where we don't have to scream during conversation. However, if it continues to be fall like weather and rains then it's a no brainer - hello Netflix!

Moody Girl Out.

Birthday Kisses, June Wishes

Today is The Complicator's Birthday and big celebrations took place over the weekend by all who love him. It is a milestone birthday and even though it isn't my birthday, I wonder if I am the one who is feeling reflective. The Complicator has spent the weeks leading up to his birthday by keeping himself busier than usual with work, sports and recreational activities. This is the tenth birthday we've celebrated together, I remember the first one we shared together and the most recent one and everything in between is a blur. What I do know is that time is going by very quickly, birthday or no birthday The Complicator continues to move through life at his own warped pace, regardless of my place in his world.

So it's now June and I'm  looking for a new full time position. I've been searching since April in between many distractions that keep surfacing much to my chagrin. I am applying to positions that I hope may inspire me to want to get up and go to work everyday (plus I'm completely broke). I've exhausted all my financial options and now am running out of time. The Complicator refuses to assist me financially in the meantime (and by that I mean a mere loan of $1,000 or so) and suggests that I take any job that I can find, regardless of the industry. I finished my degree this past spring in Film, on a part time basis while working the whole time, this was also a ten year journey which runs parallel to my relationship. After submitting resume after resume to the entertainment/media sector, I am starting to realize that I picked a very difficult field to break into. Okay, so I'm not 23 years old, I'm slightly older and  have lots of work experience in other areas. I was hoping to transition smoothly into the job of my dreams. My biggest fear is ending up in any boring administrative job as an office drone. Been there, done that, in the distant past when I was completely focused on my then music career to get me through the drudgery of Monday to Friday. (Suffice to say, I didn't become the next singing sensation). This time it's very different. I'm older (but not that old), wiser, smarter and drowning in a growing sea of debt, even though I'm in denial most days.

When I first met The Complicator he was working for his dad's company and received a weekly pay cheque, I was just beginning my studies. Over the last decade he has built a successful business and is financially independent. Sadly, I don't benefit in any way other than dinners, movies and live music shows that we see together. He has his place and I have my own mortgage. It's times like these (his birthday, my birthday & basically every other day) that I wonder what my life would be like if I had the support system to boldly chase my dreams (whatever they are). In the meantime, I wish The Complicator, Many Happy Returns and remind myself how lucky I am in other areas... Summer is finally here, it's very hot and the scent of Hyacinths permeates the gardens outside my residence. As I inhale the intoxicating fragrance, I wish upon a summer's night that everything will work out the way it's supposed to...

Moody Girl Out.

Dancing Queen, Aching Feet

It's Saturday night and I'm recovering from an unexpected night. Dare I say that I had fun last night. For a few hours I was transported by the mesmerizing soulful sounds of Tortured Soul - the ultimate live house music band in the world or rather Brooklyn, New York. Usually I'm aware well in advance about my favourite upcoming shows, however, I almost missed the ball on this one. I say almost. My boyfriend, The Complicator (also known as my insignificant other depending on the day), decided to surprise me after a nice dinner at my favourite restaurant, Valens by taking me to one of the best clubs in the city called Revival (the coolest of all clubs).

At first, I was a bit peeved at myself for not knowing that Tortured Soul was in town and performing in a matter of hours. I pretty much found out after I wolfed away my woes with a big halibut and rice dinner followed by decadent chocolate mousse. Secondly, I wasn't sure if I was dressed hip enough to go dancing, I actually felt like sleeping after dinner. Then I thought to myself, this band is the ultimate natural high and I would kick myself for not going, plus I had consumed about 5,000 calories at dinner and thought I better get my cardio in for the month. (That's a different blog).

I removed my cozy cardigan to reveal a funky one shoulder top my sister Thalia had given me a while back, luckily I was wearing one of the cooler pair of jeans that had just enough stretch to allow movement. Back in November, when I last saw Tortured Soul, I had waited all year to fit into a snug, super tight pair of Tommy Hillfiger jeans. I had a hard time sitting down in those jeans, let alone strutting my stuff on the dance floor. I did what the other cool girls do, look good on the dance floor and shake my butt, as that's all I could do, till I had a stomach ache and had to undo the button. I digress, anyway last night it wasn't my ultimate "I look hot" look of the night as that requires a bit of planning for an event like this one. Thankfully I was wearing a pair of awesome black leather gladiator wedge shoes that not only made me look about four inches taller (yippee) but gave me this confidence that I haven't felt in sometime. Oh yeah, guys were checking me out and I thought, "um hmm, still got it". Well that was around 11:30 pm, these shoes weren't the best for standing or dancing as I discovered fairly quickly.

Tortured Soul didn't take the stage until 1:30 am and by that time if my feet could scream they would. I tried to dance the pain away and did some of my best moves and could see fellow dancers giving me the nod of approval. The crowd was great, laid back and there to have a good time. I danced until I saw colours, yep the endorphins kicked in and it was magical. For a short time, I felt euphoric and remembered how much I love to dance. That is truly my ultimate high, all my problems disappeared temporarily. The shoes were cutting into my feet and the pain was increasing but I danced like my life depended on it. The Complicator was dancing too while keeping the front row crashers at bay. Being in the front row was great, I got the wink from the lead singer/drummer a couple of times, check. Made eye contact with the bass player, check. Can never actually see the keyboard player though.

My work was done. Now, someone please carry me to the car. Okay so the walk out of the club was not so cool as I felt like my feet had abandoned me at 3:30 am. Note to self, maybe pick up a pair of travel flats for occasions like this. Half way to the car, I begged The Complicator to please go bring the car or carry me, he said, "I'll bring the car, as you're too heavy". Ouch that was a bit much I thought, "heavy" huh? So much for my confidence.  I told myself to ride the high as long as possible as the moodiness will return soon enough. So today was a slacker day, slept till 3 pm and when I woke up, my ears were still ringing and my feet were still aching. But all in all, that was just what the doctor ordered, Tortured Soul for Moody Girl, what a great combination.

Moody Girl Out.