I love clothes. LOVE THEM. In high school, I went through a phase where I loved them so much I tried to make my own. It ended disastrously when a fleece dress I made broke apart in the middle of campus. That ended my days as a fashion designer. Now I just shop, covet, long for, and adore clothes. I'm one of those people who starts thinking about what they are going to wear when they wake up and then rethink it at least 50 times before they walk out the door.
That being said, I do not claim to have any particular talent for dressing. There are high days and low days. I can't tell you the number of times I think I look amazing and my closest friends look at me and ask, "what are you WEARING?"
At the end of the day, putting together outfits is hard. I have no unique talent for it. My only contributions to the world of fashion are that I think about it constantly and I'm bold enough to make massive mistakes.
For the past month I've gone back and forth on whether or not I want to try to break into this field of highly talented fashion bloggers. On the one hand, I spend so much time thinking about it I might as well, but on the other I'm nervous the people who see me every day will think, "why in the world does she think she can write about fashion?"
Over our New Year's trip to Miami, I thought about it constantly and decided to go for it. The thoughts leading up to my decision are as follows:
1. My friends are my friends and will love me anyway/might not even read this blog.
2. Blayne, you are way over thinking it. It's your blog and you can write about what you want.
3. Some people really like the way you dress.
So without further ado, my first post on fashion:
Those of you who thought Isabel Marant created the wedge sneaker in 2011 are wrong. She may be responsible for the current craze in the US, but the wedge sneaker has been around for AT LEAST 18 years. How do I know?
For 6th grade Spring Break my family and I took a trip to France. As we walked through the streets of Paris, the wedge sneaker was everywhere. Wherever you looked you saw them... on people's feet, in store windows. They were the IT shoe in France in 1996. As we strolled the Champs-Elysees, my head flew from the right to the left pointing out every single pair to my mom and having her convert the price tags to American dollars. By the time we reached the end of the street, there was no question, I had to own a pair.
The next day we had a "free afternoon" away from our group, and instead of going to see art or tasting Parisian treats, I dragged my mom and brother ALL OVER Paris looking for the perfect pair of sneakers. After 5 hours of combing shoe shops and 10 million bitchy comments from my little brother, I found the perfect pair. They were bright white with electric blue stripes and had at least a four inch heel. I was in heaven.
That night we met up for dinner with our traveling group, and I wore my new sneakers with pride. In fact, I never took them off for the rest of the trip. I'm sure it was ridiculous to see a 13 year old American girl teetering around the Paris streets in sky high wedge sneakers, but I was in love.
The night before the first day back at school I couldn't sleep. I was so excited to wear my new shoes. As I sauntered into junior high, I had visions of the seas parting and girls applauding my breathtaking new footwear. When I approached the building a group of girls saw me and asked me why I was wearing such a ridiculously ugly pair of shoes, and the theme continued throughout the day. By the end of the day it was all I could do to get home before I broke down in tears, took off my shoes, and hid them in the back of my closet. When I finally threw them in the Goodwill pile, my mom questioned me, "how could you get rid of those? You wanted them so badly." I told her everyone knew wedge sneakers were really uncool - my heart breaking just a little bit more as I turned away.
I thought that was the last I would see of wedged sneakers until 2011 when I saw this shoe on Pinterest. My heart simultaneously soared and plummeted. My intense love for for the wedge sneaker came flooding back, but so did the terrible feelings of insecurity. Convinced that I was older and much more stylish than my 13 year old self, I dipped my toe back into the wedge sneaker pond...
Not willing to invest tons of $$ into the experiment, I went with the cheapest knock off I could find. I put on some black skinny jeans, a flowy top, my new shoes, and walked hesitantly into the office. My best friend, Lindley, stopped me at the door and said, "I hate those shoes you're wearing! It looks like your ankle is broken."
I couldn't totally disagree with her. These were not my magical wedge sneakers from France, and they weren't the beautiful Isabel Marant pair I wanted so badly. They were cheap and they looked cheap. Determined to stick it out this time, I continued to wear them (much to my bff's dismay). The more I wore them the more I loved them. They made me feel tall, but they were amazingly comfortable. I felt cool wearing them, and I was proud that I'd conquered my fear.
Over Christmas Jimmy and I went to the Off 5th Outlet, and I was on a mission. I resolved that I loved wedge sneakers and was ready to commit to buying a real pair. I knew if I saw them they were coming home with me.
These babies jumped right off the shelves at me and begged me to take them home. Before I agreed I took a look at the price tag. 40% off?? Sold! Beacuse even though I love the wedge sneaker, I love a good deal even more. Now that I found the perfect pair and have fully resolved that they are just as cool as I thought they were in 1996, I'm walking tall and wearing them with pride.