lundi 13 juin 2011

Shoe fetish

Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt at Château Ste. Michelle Winery
We got there late because (a) we got off to a late start due to a baseball game and (b) we drove all around Woodinville-Redmond-Kirkland in search of the damn place. We tried to get the onboard GPS to help out, but we use it so seldom we can never remember how it works exactly. It helps to leave with enough time to get it set up beforehand. It's the little things, like entering the address of your destination,or "destiny," as my sister Cathy referred to it the other night. She told me she had google-mapped our friends' address and that if I clicked on the arrow on her iPhone it would reveal our final destiny. I knew iPhones were awesome, but this takes awesome to another level.

So back to us, last night. Walt almost drove into the middle of a roundabout and I almost got mad at him, but only because he was driving my mini. When we got there, the parking lot was full. We made a half-assed effort to drive to the place where the shuttle service was available and then went back to the main entrance, with VIP parking. We told the cop that, in VIP fashion we were late and the shuttle was not running any more (this may have been true). He told us to proceed to the main parking lot for VIPs. What's so bad about being late, when you get right down to it? We waltzed in and luckily had bought seats. The Château outdoor concerts are mostly festival seating, as in bring your own chairs and blankets. The seats, quite limited in number, are just in front of the stage. We had to walk across the front to get to ours, which we did between two numbers. I could have reached out and shaken hands with Lyle or John. Instead, I gave them a little apologetic wave. They smiled.

The show was nice and laid back. The rapport between the two is quite good and you can feel it. There were lots of Lyle Lovett fans in the audience, including two women in front of us who mouthed the words of every Lovett song and then looked bored and sour when it was John Hiatt's turn. We shared a bottle of wine and did some people watching. It was a fashion disaster, let me tell you. I don't really care what other people wear, and I was wearing my cowboy boots so I felt superior, but really.... some of the get-ups were... words fail me. The man next to me was wearing a pair of leather foot gloves. I don't know what else to call them. Each toe was "gloved". These were just awful looking, almost an affront to civilization. His companion was wearing a pair of suede clogs. I don't know why, but I got fixated on footwear after noticing the neighbors. There was the usual assortment of Keene shoes that Seattleites are so keen on(no, Walt, I am not criticizing your choice of shoes). I don't get it, personally. One man in a Hawaiian shirt was wearing a pair of cream-colored running shoes (I did not know you could buy cream colored running shoes) that were about five sizes too big for him. And yes, he looked like a clown.

Okay, enough of being all critical of people's shoes. It is a bit of an obsession with me. I admit it. Once I was on the Paris métro wearing a really nice and expensive suit. This was the late 80's. My suit was tan and black houndstooth. I had on some black stockings and a really nice pair of tan stilettos. I thought this was a great look, and truly it was if you ask me. A couple got on and the guy was checking me out. This was the 80's, okay? I was probably 30. He whispered to his girlfriend that he liked my look. She checked me out, top to bottom, and then told him loud enough for me to hear that my shoes were all wrong. My shoes were all wrong?! I have heard of people having bad hair days. I had a bad shoe day after that. I was convinced that everyone was going to look at my shoes and mentally note this "faute de goût". I'd like to think that this would not bother me today. But then why do I tend to notice people's shoes?