Felt + Snow = Bad

The chronicles of inappropriate footwear continue.

A few years ago, when I was shopping for the waders and boots I need for my job taking pictures while waist deep in rivers, I was under the impression I wanted felt-soled boots, to keep my feet from slipping on wet rocks. I have since recognized that rubber soles would be better in sandy marine environments, but most of my work is done in rivers.

I was a little nervous about today’s excursion because it was supposed to be 32 degrees and perhaps snowing. Last night, I laid out my fleece long underwear, sweats and wool socks to wear under the waders. I set out my North Face winter jacket. Yep, it’s time.

I also packed some snacks for Leo, who would wait in the car during my river walk. And made sure my memory card was in my camera and that my camera battery was charged and inside the camera. (Because one time I discovered after getting on a boat that I left the camera battery in the charger.)

But I forgot to bring my North Face jacket.

I worried nearly the whole way upriver that I would freeze to death, but actually, that wasn’t the problem. I was perfectly comfortable with a raincoat over a fleece jacket. The problem was the snow speckled on the creekside grass.

We didn’t spend as much time walking in the river channel as on the snowy grass. Within 10 steps, I had a thick accumulation of snow on my felt sole. My companion said, “Felts are the worst.”

Really? I thought I was supposed to have felts!

It was rough going, walking on frozen “rocker soles.” Like, if Lady Gaga wore fishing boots and then attached a rounded sole made of ice. That’s what these felt like.

Fashion inertia

It was drawn to my attention recently that journalists don’t know how to dress. Young women sometimes enter the field knowing how to dress, but within five years, they’ve lost their style.

I certainly was a lot more stylish when I was a newspaper reporter than I am now. In fact, I was overdressed for most of the first year I worked for a newspaper in Northwest Washington. Inevitably, I’d be wearing the wrong shoes, or a skirt, on the day I had to chase down a wayward whale. Or pick daffodils.

When I worked in the state capital, I rarely wore jeans, because you never knew when you might have to cover an event with the governor in attendance. I remember the exact outfit I wore when I first met the governor. Knee-length black skirt, sheer blue-green top over a tank top. You know what I was wearing when I saw the governor two months ago? Khakis, a T-shirt and hiking shoes.

In my defense, it was an outdoor event on a summer day, but many other people in attendance seemed to think it was a skirt/suit and tie affair. (The governor, as I recall, was wearing a button-down shirt and white pants, so not overly formal.)

Is my lack of style a result of being a journalist for 10 years…or is it the result of working as a journalist for an outdoorsy operation in the Pacific Northwest? I went to a work-related funeral last month and was one of maybe five women wearing a black skirt. I would have fit in fine in my khakis, T-shirt and hiking shoes.

The unfortunate side effect of never wearing anything other than jeans, khakis, T-shirt, sweatshirt or fleece is that I am not current on cute outfits for going to a nice dinner or a concert (or a funeral). At this time, I do not have any “nice pants” that fit. I have a few dresses, but they don’t look quite right with the “special shoes” I have to wear for my broken foot.

They sure aren’t Manolos

I can’t believe it. Five and a half years in the Northwest, more than a year and a half at this job, and once again, I found myself without the proper footwear.

At least I had time to acquire it. On the phone yesterday, planning for a canoe excursion tomorrow, I was told I should wear my Tevas, because surely I owned a pair. Doesn’t everyone?

I’ve never owned a pair of Tevas, and dislike even the pronunciation Tay-vas, because it sounds pretentious to me, even though it’s probably more correct than Tee-vas. Still, after deciding that I would be too embarrassed to wear the wrong shoes, after being specifically told what brand of sandal to wear…I went to the sporting goods store.

Where I felt pissed off at the world that I was having to buy a pair of those dog-leash material velcro sport sandals that I have never wanted to own. The fact that I could expense them cheered me not one bit.

I rebelled and picked out a pair of Columbia synthetic nunbuck sandals in mud and cabana pink. I feel good about those.

Strangely compelling

A What Not to Wear Marathon.

I turned it on as background noise while I applied the 2nd and 3rd coats of merlot paint, which I am so happy dried darker than the first coat yesterday, because that was positively raspberry. It’s still more plum than I envisioned, but I can live with it.

Anyway, I haven’t been able to change the channel or turn off the TV or leave the room. I’m not feeling inferior, like I did when I got sucked into Tim Gunn’s Guide to Style, because I know I’m working my WWU sweatpants and seriously oversized sweatshirt. It’s so oversized, it doesn’t even fit Rob. It’s meant to go over his impact reduction suit.

Oh, but I feel bad for some of these folks, when Stacy and Clinton lay into them about their fashion sense, because so often it’s tied into their body issues or whatever. And then there are my heroes, like Lynn, who refused to let them cut her hair (even though I really wanted to see how it would look) and Erin, who is so funky and bizarre, she makes me laugh. She’s on right now. I can’t wait to see her transformation.

Fashion backward

While waiting for Rob to finish uploading the entire contents of his cassette collection to digital format and then to his iPod, so we could watch Prison Break, I watched an episode of Tim Gunn’s Guide to Style.

The subject was a mother of two who wore nothing but capri pants and T-shirts. As the mother of two pets and a boyfriend, I could relate. No, that’s not really why I could relate. It’s the job that’s made me slovenly. I managed to dress “professionally” most of the time when I worked at the below-mentioned University. But now, I need to be prepared to wade in a creek or hike to a mountain goat meadow at a moments notice.

Which means I wear jeans and a T-shirt every day. Or cargo pants. Or khakis. I suppose in the winter I wear some snazzy sweaters…but I know that if Tim Gunn ever visited my closet, he’d be getting rid of 97 percent of my outfits and make me wear little dresses and slacks that touch the floor. (So please don’t submit an application for me.)

Remember Laura Bennett from last season of Project Runway? How she dressed like Audrey Hepburn all the time even though she was a mom who worked from home? Yeah, that’s not me.

As I watched Tim Gunn, I was wearing jeans that were dirty from my walks and class with Isis and a raglan T-shirt with black sleeves that were covered in dog hair from lying on the floor by Rob’s computer while waiting for him to finish uploading the entire contents of his cassette collection to digital format and then to his iPod, so we could watch Prison Break. I was wearing no make-up and there was no product in my hair.

When we got a last minute invitation to dinner (his family always does this. Surely someone knew they were going to celebrate his brother-in-law’s birthday on Saturday prior to 4 p.m. on Saturday), I was motivated by Tim to gussy myself up a little bit. Eye make-up and hair product were no-brainers — I wear those to work. But I also put on lipgloss and mascara. Big day.

I thought for a moment about putting on slacks, but without even looking at them, I decided that all eight pairs didn’t reach the floor, were wrinkled or are too tight. My “Saturday night out” outfit? A pair of clean jeans, belted, and a long-sleeved purple and blue tie-died T-shirt, with the “Om” symbol imprinted in gold, from the Tibet Festival two years ago. Instead of Timberland hiking shoes, I upgraded to my black monochrome Converse classics.

Don’t think I don’t know that Tim Gunn would consider this a “Before” outfit. So would Chelsea. (Happy Birthday, Chelsea!)

So outdoorsy

When did this transformation happen?

Having determined that $99 is the best price for the Mystic Peak hiking boots, I returned to Joe’s to buy them. And had to buy a T-shirt, socks and a soccer ball (for the dog) while I was at it. I impulse shop at a sporting goods store.

The weird part is that every time I looked at the pictures of the boots online, I really, really wanted them. Maybe it was the lavender trim, or the embossed pine cones.

I tried to comparison shop at the new Sportsman’s Warehouse yesterday, but was put off by the dead animal heads on display above the footwear.

Defying stereotypes

So I was out shoe shopping, as part of my job, of course. I need three new pairs of shoes. One for kickboxing (not job related, but since I was there…), waterproof hiking boots and felt-soled wading boots.

Some sales dude engaged me with “How ya doin’?” while I was looking for a pair of Pumas in a size 9. Same guy asked “How ya doin’?” while I was trying on a pair of $99 hiking boots (would feel guilty expensing these, and hope to find them on sale). I narrated that the 9s were too big and I was going to try the 8.5. He helpfully picked up the white paper that had been stuffed into the toes.

A few minutes later, he tracked me down to the wading boot aisle.

“Oh, there you are!” he said. “These are wading shoes. What are you doing?”

“I’m planning to do some wading,” I said coyly. Fought the urge to tell him I’m an avid duck hunter.

Anyway, I bought those. $64 closer to having a pair of boots for every occasion. Felt soles are necessary for walking across rocks in a river, if you were wondering.

S’been a long time since I wore my knee-high pleather boots…

Since I last posted

I waded waist-deep in a fast moving river, wearing cotton pants and someone else’s felt-soled boots because I never have the right outfit on. When I discovered that catching fish for their eggs did not involve a boat, I felt like an idiot. A complete idiot. The professionals wore a uniform of polypropylene long-johns under synthetic shorts. I totally have that outfit! But I was wearing khakis. I spent several long minutes going through my entire wardrobe, mentally assembling outfits that would have been better suited for the occasion and wondering why I thought the khakis would be OK.

Then I saw that several of the dozen volunteers were wearing jeans and tennis shoes. And I didn’t feel so bad. Those guys wound up swimming fully dressed in the river by day’s end.

Unlike some of my outdoor excursions in recent years, this one actually became more fun as it went on. I only was waist-deep in the water for a brief time (although that did mean I was wet for the entire day) and managed to stay knee-deep for much of it. I didn’t drop my camera in the river and only fell on my butt once. Love my job.

Also since my last post, I saw “The Bourne Ultimatum” and got stung by a bee. Unrelated events.