1960s Silver, 1970s Brown

Here you are, a drawing that tells you a story. Details I can add to the written notes:

• The San Francisco I was in was vintage 1960s, like daytime Hitchcock,
• The fellow who picked up the lady from Berlin on his motoscoot was also wearing a very sparkly, giant, bulbous silver helmet,
• A fight between me and Monique is hardly a fight at all. We negotiated quite amicably for the el-cheapo Chanel pumps.
• In real life, I stay the heck away from shoes that have a "pin-up" vibe.
  

This was essentially a dream pitting the sixties and the seventies against each other, style-wise. I chose the sixties, determinedly, but I admit that I felt seduced by the wispy women exemplifying the stray, brown, sharper image of the 1970s in the dream.

There was much more to this dream (such as a sub-plot taking place in a log cabin) but I can tell you nothing more. Subject matter not fit for public consumption.

What I Did Last Summer

Quite obviously, I have been ignoring this blog. I have had this drawing to post since July 16, 2008.

I no longer remember the dream that surrounded these shoes, I mean, I don't remember who was in it, where I was or why I was dreaming about these shoes. I am trying to reconstruct the memory, but I think the storage facility for dreams in one's brain is more like an antechamber than the ballroom where all lived memories gather. (I like thinking of my memories at a raucous shin-dig, with music blasting.)

One aspect of these shoes that I notice is their openness. Each one has a part missing--how Foucaultian! (Funny word...like "Mancunian" for someone from Manchester.) They display a particular absence, either in the heel, the toe or the vamp. Curious that the cut-away parts are at the start, middle and end of each shoe.

I don't think it means anything.

It was summer.

My feet were probably too hot.

Hence the crinkly, distressed gold foil leather.

Soft Shoeing

I was really happy to have another shoe dream recently, this one after I'd been on a canoe trip (and not worn real shoes for days) and flown to Vancouver. I scrawled this drawing in haste over breakfast with E-- before we set off for a Southern Gulf island. (Question: Does this gulf off the coast of Vancouver really have no name? Why is it known only as "the Gulf"?)

My head was full of stars because I'd had the chance to stare up into the night sky the previous 2 nights. (Total bliss.) Maybe that's why I dreamt these particular shoes, which were extremely light and soft and pliable. They seem to me the perfect footwear for brushing around in light sand while breathing "ta ta da ta da..." and listening to a little glockenspiel. Do you know the song "A Little Bit Independent" by Fats Waller? It is perfect for these pairs.

I cannot explain to you the meaning of the pink seersucker trousers that I tucked into the high-top sneakers. In real life I wouldn't be caught dead in pink seersucker, yet in my dream, it seemed to me pretty fly.

Addled Brain Produces Many Diors...

...or would the plural of Dior be Dior? Hm.

So addled am I of brain that I had a cacophonic and byzantine shoe dream last night, unable to be drawn. All I really remember is that I was in a store and completely surrounded by ugly, baggy dresses (the cheap sort now meant to "drape" but meanwhile look like so much sack clinging to a load of groceries), glittery handbags and high-heeled shoes jumbled in big piles. There were many pairs of Dior sandals, that much I remember. There were polka dots, wedge heels, broad ankle straps, heels the shape of yams, and absolutely nothing in basic black. It was a parliament of shoes.

And the weirdest thing about the dream is that I had a friend's dog with me--a little terrier. Help me! What is going on?

Acid Green Piping on Smooth Brown Leather...

I was just reading The Sartorialist and garance doré and am in a bubble, dreaming about men's style...my ultimate French counterpart will be wearing these shoes: http://www.corthay.fr/. Unbelievable, beauty.

Keeper of sheep

Last weekend I visited my new, one-month-old nephew in Calgary, and he is a joy. An adorable joy. My trip is the reason I am now posting these shoes from dreams quite late after the fact of imagining them. It is now nearly a week after I dreamt the first couple of pairs (top). All I remember from the dream was that the butterlfly detail on the sandal was dazzling and actually, alive. But jewellery. In any case, it fluttered realistically. I remember thinking (dreamingly) that the butterfly represented a recent kiss.

The second dream, had one night later, offered several pairs of dazzling espadrilles. In real life, I can't stand espadrilles, unless Penelope Cruz is standing in them. However these were knockout espadrilles, beyond compare. Oh how I wish I could draw.

The entire experience of dreaming about perfect footwear makes me feel the same way as when I read this poem by Fernando Pessoa:

I'm a keeper of sheep

I'm a keeper of sheep.
The sheep are my thoughts
And my thoughts are all sensations.
I think with my hands and feet
And with my nose and mouth

To think a flower is to see it and smell it
And to eat a fruit is to taste its meaning.

That's why on a hot day
When I ache from enjoying it so much,
And stretch out on the grass,
Closing my warm eyes,
I feel my whole body lying full length in reality,
I know the truth and I am happy.

Fragmentariness...

I haven't posted in a long, long time....

Today is definitely a "mashup" day; I've got about 5 songs playing in my head at the same time and I can't seem to focus. I'm amazed that I recalled having a shoe dream last night at all.

But hooray that I did (recall and dream).

What I remember about the dream context was that I was on a group voyage--a tour of sorts, though I'm not sure where we were headed. One evening, our group stopped at a way-station, where we would be spending the night. We weren't being held captive, but I felt that none of us was too pleased about the way things were going. That's probably why I decided to go on the lam for a while.

Next to our hostel, across the street, was an outdoor shoe market, but it was closed, or closing soon. I stopped in--but was told I could not buy anything--and found it to be the most marvelous shoe emporium I'd ever seen. I started dashing around on its gravelly station, gathering up shoes like a child in an egg hunt. Everywhere I turned there was a better pair. I snatched as many as I could in my size and hastily jammed them beneath a cabinet where I hoped they wouldn't be found before I could return and purchase them. All the while, my chaperones were calling for me, beckoning me to our lodgings.

The idea in the dream was that I was then going to lay down to rest and dream about the shoes I had stashed.

Dreams are so incredibly fragmentary.