Friday Shoegasm: Sexy, heart-stealing summer espadrilles

I've long had a love affair with espadrilles. I'd had others growing up, flats and slip-ons and even some that raised me up just the a bit to wear one summer when I was a teen, but it was the pair from Italy that first truly wooed me.

I was traveling with my best friend on a clockwise route around Europe, carefully choosing souvenirs along the way that I was certain I could stuff into the bottom of my backpack and would survive trains and hostels and other gross post-college stuff I'd never put up with now. As soon as I stepped foot, in clogs or hiking boots or something far too practical, I knew that a pair of Italian shoes would be the exception to all that souvenir strategy. I had to have a pair I loved and could wear immediately, THAT NIGHT, preferably while sitting outside drinking copious amounts of wine and eating more pasta than I could handle and with some divinely handsome Roman gentleman from the business district.

(Not the originals, but these do capture their spirit. Seychelles Arden, $90)

I wasn't even inside the store when I knew that the shoes would be espadrilles. They were made of ivory linen and tied with long ivory ribbons. They were terribly impractical for the streets of Roma and hauling a backpack on and off trains and pretty much every single place I'd ever visit in the entire world. I did not care. I loved wrapping the ties up my calves, I loved winding them only around my ankles.

(These are screaming to me so loudly, I cannot believe I do not have them upon my feet this very moment. Nine West Lazar, $89)

I loved how they looked with my peasant skirts (please, spare the comments, as it was the 90s), I loved how they made my tan legs look tanner. I wore them across Italy, into Prague, through Germany, in Amsterdam, and back home to Chicago.

(Fun, flirty, frugal. Yep, these are from Payless and are only $19.99)

I wore them after I moved to Oregon. I wore them even when I returned to Chicago years later.

(No. Just...no. I won't even link to where you can get these. That's how much I believe these espa-insults should not be worn.)

Those espadrilles were my mistress until they broke down completely (and isn't that how it always is?).

(I do love my red espadrilles, but these I would wear nearly every day, all summer long. Lands End, $68)

I bought a new pair from (I shudder to admit this) Payless. They were tan canvas with pink and tan ribbons. They were cute but could not compare. I threw away the Italian espadrilles. Yes, I cried.

(I adore these sleek Burberried-up babies. But since they really are Burberry and really cost $395, I will be wearing them...never.)

I hunted through my two underbed boxes, hanging door organizer and eleven shoe boxes of footwear last summer, looking for those espadrilles, somehow convincing myself I rescued them from the trash and might be able to restore them to their Roman glory after all the travels I've done since I purchased them. Of course, they were long gone. The only espadrilles remaining were the inadequate replacements from Payless. Without a tear, I threw those away.

(If you must wear flats, wouldn't these be easy in the airport and adorable at a picnic? Steve Madden, $50)

I have a few new pairs of espadrilles in my shoe collection now. Even though the Not Boyfriend referred to this style as "rattan chairs made into shoes," I will continue to delight in how the ties peek out flirtatiously when I wear them with my favorite white flared pants.How they hike me up a few inches when I'm courageous enough to wear shorts. How much better they make a simple sundress look. 

(OK, these really do look like a beach chair on a rental condo lanai in Florida. BCBG Max Azria, $185)

I really do love every single pair -- even the plaid Ralph Lauren numbers that pinch my heels and require 12 blister-busting BandAids.

But they will never, ever outshine or outwear the first espadrilles to steal my shoe-whore heart.

Are you wearing espadrilles this summer? What shoes did you first give your heart to?

More Shoegasms for your Friday fun:

• Red hot mamas
• Flip-flop fail
• Still styley: summer nudes

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Sassy Single Mom Serenity: The keyword here is "generous"

I do believe many of us have all good intentions to tend to ourselves. I also think that it's important to validate the small, self-caring things we do regularly -- for me, it is starting the morning hours with some kind of exercise, finally making an appointiment to see the dentist, choosing to stay in and be still some evenings and be surrounded by grrrlfriends other times, wearing lipstick even when I won't see another soul all day, having my groceries delivered instead of stressing about standing in lines behind the last check-writers in America. But I've also realized that it's just as important to recognize when we stop short of fully, completely be good to ourselves.

Whether you have a partner or don't, it's not likely someone will tell you every Wednesday evening that you really could use a super-long soak in the tub while watching a Bethenny marathon. Even the people who love you most, who are sure to get you a massage gift card for your birthday or bestow lattes just the way you like them at your desk or bring you a giant bouquet of flowers from their garden because you crossed their mind may not know how desperately you'd like to book a first-class ticket just once or that heaven sounds like two hours of babysitting so you can take Pilates. While we might have little bursts of wellness throughout our week, I think a lot of us get very good at not asking to be lavished, not of the people around us and especially not of ourselves.

I started noticing how often I stop short with myself when I poured the last drops of bubble bath in a very steamy tub a few weeks ago when the weather was still chilly and my day left me feeling weary. I had a flash of sadness to see the bottle empty.

I splurged a little when I bought this brand, spending a dollar or so more than I usually do on a much bigger tub of cheapy, goopy lavendar liquid from the drug store. I intended to treat it just like I do all of my little splurges, from my MAC foundation to my hand cream found in a tiny apothocary in Portland to mama-only dark chocolate. I use it sparingly, bit my little bit. And when it's nearly empty, I cut off the bottom of the tube or hack off the end of the plastic bottle to get every single drop. I've always thought of it as thrifty, wise, appreciative.

Then I read the label on this bubble bath.

Use generously, it advises, straightforwardly but also tenderly. Reading it that way, why would you not? I wouldn't because I would be frugal. This seems silly, though, when you consider that the whole point of bubbles in your tub is to relish the sensation, to immerse yourself in lightness and air, to relax. Why then, wouldn't I forget frugality, spare myself all the sparing, and just pour it in?

That's what I did. Following the directions, at least this time, really did make my bath time a little more heavenly. The bath wasn't phenomenally better, but the reminder that it is OK to be generous with myself can turn a small moment of self-care into a significant act of self-kindness.

I need that. We all do.

I didn't order the same brand of bubble bath once my supply was (oh, I love how literal this is) drained. But I also was sure not to skimp. That felt good, and I believe it will continue you to in the weeks ahead.

I do not need another task on my list nor another personal challenge. I have opened myself, however, to the opportunity to be more generous to myself in those ways that I cannot nor should not expect anyone else to encourage. An extra capful of bubble bath, five more minutes sitting in the sunshine, a bouquet bought by me for me, maybe even an extra trip to see the Not Boyfriend -- these acts of generosity can only make me feel stronger, more supported, more serene, happier, healthier, and those all completely obliterate any haggling over cost.

Share: What ways are you generous to yourself?

Note on the product featured here: I picked it out, paid for it, and devised my opinions of it all on my own. Swearsy.

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Dinner companion

I don't care if it is a thousand degrees outside, I am blissful sitting in the full sunshine on my porch, looking out over the neighborhood, across to the potted herbs growing in mismatched pots all around me, into the trees with branches that hang right over us, and over at my boy.

We eat dinner out here often in the summer months. It's easy to slide plates of sausages and potatoes, salmon and veggie kabobs, chicken and corn right from the grill over to our little table. It also makes me feel like I am getting some time outside after spending my days tapping away on laptop and overwhelmed by conference calls and shuttling between school and the Tae Kwon Do studio.

Last night, the sun was very hot, but the light fell perfectly across Lil E's chestnut hair, totally and stubbornly over-grown, especially for the warm-weather months. He said the sausages I grilled up were too spicy (reminding me of him as a baby, trying new foods and exclaiming, "PICY! PICY, MOMMY! PICY!"). But he happily ate his broccoli and rice and mustered through a few bites of the spicy stuff.

We talked about his day, the last week of kindergarten (reminding me of his first day of kindergarten...just yesterday, wasn't it?). We talked about some silly dog tale with the ongoing storyline we've stretched out for weeks now. We talked about vacations he will take with his dad and then with me this summer.

It was pleasant, calm. The birds were chirping. Our feet were bare. Our bellies were full. A trace of air conditioning slipped out of the porch door and gave some relief. We did not feel rushed. If this was a welcome from summer, she did it right this year.

See Lil E's little muffin feet with the rounded toes and deliciously gushy tops?

I always wondered where he inherited them from.Until I saw this photo right here.

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