Getting the Boot

 These are currently my favorite boots.They're about 3 years old, and, as usual, I fear that they will be at their most comfortable right before they're worn out.

I have other boots; boots are my favorite footwear. No heels, though - I hate heels. Not on other people, just on me. Heels are pretty, but they hurt.

They might hurt less now; I had surgery on my feet to correct congenital bone deformations a few years ago. The receptionist asked me, as I left after getting my cast removed, "Are you going to go out and buy some great high heels now?" My answer was a resounding NO. I am all about comfort.

For most of my life, "dress shoes" meant high heeled sandals. A solid shoe had a tendency to squeeze my bunions, which was beyond painful. I bought sandals so that the bunion could stick out between the straps. Sure, it looked kind of funky, but it didn't hurt as much. My daughter did the opposite with her bunioned feet, because she was embarrassed by the bunions. No sandals, no flip flops - she wore shoes that hid her feet.

When I was in high school, these were my favorite dress shoes. (Yes, that's me wearing them.)

They were a big name brand, Candies, but I got them at a steep discount, because it was spring, and they were in fall colors. Pfft! I didn't care. I loved those shoes. But man, they HURT. If I wore them to a 2 day debate tournament, Friday and Saturday, I'd have to spend most of Sunday on my couch, off my feet. I'd limp through church, and most of that required sitting. Still, at that point, I considered it worth it, because the shoes were adorable.

At that age, I'd also deal with tight waistbands and other indignities, if I thought it looked good.

At 20, pregnancy forced me into flat shoes and clothes with stretch, and I realized that I'd been living my life all wrong. Now, if it isn't comfortable, I don't wear it, unless it's a lifesaving device.

The first time I came downstairs wearing these black boots with a dress, on my way to church, my youngest daughter informed me that I was fashionable. "That look is really hot right now, Mom! Good choice!"

That was not the response I got from my oldest daughter when I unpacked the boots at her house a couple of years ago. I'd come to attend my grandniece's naming ceremony, and was staying at my daughter's house; my nieces live about 30 minutes away from there. I'd worn sneakers through the airport, and had the boots in my luggage.

My daughter looked concerned. "Did you bring dress shoes?"

"These are my dress shoes." She looked blank, so I re-phrased. "I wear these with my dresses."

"Did you pack any church shoes?"

"These are my church shoes." Again the blank look, again the attempt to explain; "I wear these to church. (My daughter blinked.) I teach Gospel Doctrine in these shoes, every week."

"Did you bring any other shoes?"

I pointed to my sneakers. "These."

She was aghast. This is not surprising; she's despaired over my clothes, and wanted to dress me, since her age was in single digits.

She felt a bit better after we arrived at the synagogue. Another niece, the new baby's auntie, is easily the most fashionable person on that side of the family. She had on a dress and cowboy boots. My sister, the baby's grandma, is also terribly fashionable (and lovely); she had on a dress and knee high black boots.

My daughter felt better; not that she likes my boots, mind you, but because, "At least you aren't the only one." To be the only one doing anything is horrifying to her. I hope that she didn't notice that I'm the only one here in a pattern instead of a solid. Well, OK, not the only one; my niece has on a striped cardigan.

I think we all look pretty good. I certainly don't think that I look scandalous.

I am so very aware, however, that not everyone agrees with me. One of the things that frequently makes my life more difficult than it ought to be is the expectations for women's footwear, in either a business context or in a special occasion context.

My husband and I like to cruise, and cruises have formal nights. Dressing up isn't required, they won't bar you from the restaurants if you're dressed casually, but dressing up is nice. Plus, you can get great portraits on those nights. But, formal clothes are hard for me, specifically because of the shoes. I have a dress that I bought specifically for cruises. It's black and silver, from a higher end store than I usually patronize, looks good, and packs well. Yet it has never left my closet, because I can't find shoes that I'll wear and would be considered appropriate. My daughters lean on me to get ballet flats, but those are usually either too narrow or have zero arch support (or both), and as someone with collapsed arches, arch support is often a deal breaker issue.

Narrowness is also a huge issue. Go to the store, and put women's casual and dress shoes next to each other. The dress shoes will always, always be narrower. I've seen shoes marked "wide width" whose soles are an inch and a half narrower than my actual foot. With uncorrected bunions, that was easily 2 1/2 to 3 inches too narrow. I have seen too many dress shoes whose soles are less than two inches wide. Whose foot is that made for?

Men can, and often do, pair suits with casual shoes, even sneakers, and it's considered fun and fashionable and appropriate. My husband has a pair of black tennis shoes that he frequently wears with his dress clothes, because they blend, and people don't even notice. I can't do that. I've seen too many people raise their eyebrows when I wear sneakers with casual clothes, even on vacation.

When I competed in high school speech and debate, and thirty years later when I coached high school speech and debate, the students were supposed to dress up in "business" attire, to compete. The guys often just tossed on a blazer over their T-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes, and they were considered well dressed and prepared. Even if the T-shirt had a design on it, or the jeans were ripped, it could be passed off as edgy and trendy. A girl dressed the same way was seen as being inappropriately dressed, not caring about herself or the event, and unprepared. Even swapping pants for a skirt, but wearing the same top and shoes she'd worn to school, was often deemed inadequate. One of my students wore brand new, deep blue jeans with her blazer, and got "inappropriado wardrobe" written on her ballot. (We are still trying to figure out what "inappropriado" is actually supposed to mean, since it's not a real word.) Many, many girls packed slippers to wear between rounds, because their "appropriate" shoes hurt. 

Business women do the same thing. How many go out to lunch in their office suits and skirts and sneakers, because their dress shoes are just for show, like for when they clock in or meet clients?

This was a constant struggle for me over decades of taking wedding photos. I could "look appropriate," or I could wear shoes that were comfortable. Sure, men sometimes face this struggle, too. I remember cringing when I heard a woman say that she "should have known" that she'd get "terrible photos" of the wedding when her male photographer showed up in sneakers. "How much of a professional could he be, dressed like that?"

This is why my husband, also a wedding photographer, always said, "I'm dressing up even if I'm the most formally dressed person at the wedding." To me, though, that's just evidence of how men and women move through life differently. It would be difficult, and often prohibitively expensive, for me to try to be the most formally dressed person at a wedding. Other women are likely to be in gowns, silk, satin, taffeta, sequins. I'm not going to be working in those clothes. I often end up climbing on chairs or benches, or getting flat on my stomach, to get the shot I want. It irks me tremendously that wearing clothes, and especially shoes, that let me do my job well is seen as being inappropriate, not caring about myself, the clients, or the occasion. I can't do my best work if I'm in pain. I shouldn't have to.

Three of my childen are married. To two of those weddings, where I was not only the parent of the bride or groom but also taking the photos, I wore boots under my floor length skirt.

Even if I was the only one in boots.

My Parents' Anniversary

Today is my parents' 58th wedding anniversary. I'm thinking about them today.

I've previously written about the fact that my mom got married twice to her first husband. We recently discovered that she'd also married my dad twice.

("What is it with Mom and having two weddings?" my sister said.)

We've always known the date and place of my parents' wedding. We teased them about taking the wedding to the guests instead of the guests to the wedding, since they were married in the church my uncle and aunt attended. "That's not how you're supposed to do it," we'd say. "Yes, well, that's how we did it," Mom would say.

I figured that choice was a combination of not wanting a big fuss, but wanting a formal ceremony. Mom was very practical, and I can imagine Dad wanting a ceremony that rivaled the one with her first husband. Neither of my parents were members of any congregation, so they didn't have their own church to consider. So, the 90 minute drive each way made sense. (It still does.)

After my mom passed away (Dad's been gone for years), I found the certificate from their wedding. It is an ornate piece of parchment, with flowers and filigree and the writing hand done in calligraphy. It's tied by silk tassels, in a leather folder. Very showy, very fancy; it looks regal. It had all the information I was used to - date, place, my aunt and uncle as witnesses.

The problem was, on either my FamilySearch account or on my Ancestry.com account, the two geneological programs that I use, I could not find an online record of it. Neither could my sister. Oh, well, I thought. We know that it happened. New documents are being scanned or info uploaded every day; sooner or later, it'll be online. I don't need another record of it so badly that I needed to drive across four counties to get a copy.

But then, we came across another record online, a record showing that they got married more than a month after the first wedding, by a Justice of the Peace in another, closer, neighboring county. What was that about? Lots of people, myself and my husband included, have a civil ceremony first, and later, a religious ceremony. But why do it the other way round? And why so close together?

My parents are gone. My uncle and aunt are gone. I'm willing to bet that the minister (and Justice) are gone, even if he remembered them. Some of my cousins are gone; my oldest brother is nearing 70, and all of my children are grown. We're reaching the age at which we are the older generation. There's no one with first hand knowledge around to ask.

There are, however, stories and records from years gone by to help us extrapolate. There's the fact that many religions are very strict about how they will, and won't, perform ceremonies.

As nearly as we can figure, the minister from my uncle's church found out that my mother was divorced after he'd already performed the ceremony, and he then refused to file the paperwork with the state, so the marriage wasn't considered legal. "My mother couldn't have told the church that she'd been divorced when she married my dad. Otherwise, they wouldn't have let them get married in the church," one of my cousins told me. It used to be uncommon to find a church that would perform ceremonies for divorced folks.

So, my parents drove to the next town over in order to make it legal; but, they continued to celebrate the day they actually chose to be married, the day they first said vows. That's very typical of my parents. "This is my anniversary."

That makes sense. We celebrate the day of our first wedding. By the time of our second wedding, the religious ceremony, we'd been married for years, and had two children. That's a different day than the day we chose to get married.

I am a religious person; I stand behind the idea of religions acting in accordance with their beliefs. And yet this story tickles me. It amuses me. I stand behind my parents and their choice to celebrate their non-legal wedding day. Call it like you see it, Mom and Dad. Don't back down.

I come by my stubbornness honestly.

Bridesmaids

The first time I was a bridesmaid, I was a scared 10 year old in a long yellow and white dress. The second time, I was 15, and wore a long dress in an abstract, watercolor design of blue, purple and green. At 18, I was a maid of honor in long, sky blue lace.

At 20, I was the bride. I wanted my bridesmaids to have dresses that they'd wear again; nobody has that much use for floor length gowns. I loved the dresses I'd worn, and the women I'd worn them for, but I'm also fairly practical.

There seemed to be two prevailing ideas about bridesmaid dresses. One held that they should be at least marginally unattractive, so no one would outshine the bride. This seemed silly (and insecure) to me. I expected even the guests to "outshine" me. I have never felt beautiful or even eyecatching. The second notion was that you had to micromanage what your wedding party wore so that you could control the day, or at least the photos. Since this was supposed to be The Day You Have Always Dreamed Of, it was your absolute right to make sure that you approved of what others were wearing, especially those who would stand next to you and have their photos in your wedding album. This also seemed over the top to me. I couldn't imagine how it would "ruin my day" if someone wore something I didn't like. There wasn't actually a dress code and a bouncer.

I figured that having the wedding party in fancy, matching clothes was our way of saying, "These people are important to us!" Not that everyone else wasn't, but I couldn't afford to buy all of my friends and relatives new wedding outfits. Tradition dictated a wedding party of close friends, so I had one.

My husband actually had far more firm opinions on things like clothes and decorations than I did. He and I saw our bridesmaid dresses at the same time, as we were stepping off the escalator in a department store, and both of us simultaneously said, "THOSE!" They were pink with white pearlized buttons, faux wrap style, just below the knee length. We both loved them.

I mean, how cute are these dresses? And these ladies?

I gave no instruction on what to wear with them. A couple of them asked about hair or shoes or jewelry, and I told them, "Whatever you do is fine." Our colors were pink, white and ivory. The men wore black tuxedoes with pink boutonnieres. I did my own hair (my ordinary style, with a bit of curl and a fancy shell clip), and I expected everyone else to do the same. We didn't get ready together, or go to a salon, or anything of the kind; that's just not appealing to me.

We had six bridesmaids - an indicator of my inability to leave anyone out. Truth be told, I wanted a few more, but my husband only asked 4 men to be groomsmen, and only two said yes, so we were already lopsided.

One bridesmaid wore pale gray flats. One wore brown sandals. The rest wore white shoes, most of them heels.

So, yes, we looked lopsided, but otherwise adorable. And my nieces, the flower girls - could you just eat up their sweetness? Literally 15 years later, people were asking, "And how are those darling flower girls?" (Um, adults now, thanks. But they're still darlings.)

Anyway. I digress.

During my reception, a cousin came up to me and asked why one bridesmaid wore brown sandals.

My nerves were a little raw. We'd been engaged for a year; DON'T DO IT! Short engagements are the way to go! We had been bombarded with "You must do this," and, "You can't do that," and opinions out our ears until I wanted to scream. Someone phoned my husband at work, the night before the ceremony, to tell him to "call the whole thing off" because they and I disagreed about how to serve the condiments at the reception - and this someone was NOT our caterer or catering staff. True story. So, I was more caustic than I would otherwise be. I responded, truthfully, "She and her husband and their two year old twins drove for 16 hours, one way, to be here with us today. I don't care if she's barefoot." I mean, focus, people! What's important?

My poor cousin, who has never been anything but sweet and helpful, looked stricken. "Oh! I just - I wasn't sure if you gave them instructions. I didn't want you to be upset." I assured her that I was not upset with the shoes, or with her asking about them. The shoes were a non-issue.

I wish that I had photos of being a bridesmaid for my friend two years later. Back in the days of film, it was harder and more costly to share images.

We had off the shoulder, lavender, floor length gowns - very Southern belle. Luckily, they were also full and high waisted, because I was 6 months pregnant, and the matron of honor was 8 months pregnant.

When I walked down the aisle, there were a few whispers. Mostly, I think, people were trying to figure out if I was pregnant "or just that big." There was no question when the matron of honor walked down the aisle. She looked like she had swallowed a watermelon. There were audible gasps, and a loud buzz of conversation. They only quieted down when the pastor slightly raised his voice to ask everyone to stand for the bride.

Many people at the reception told the bride how "sweet," "brave," and "amazing" it was that she included us in the wedding party. The prevailing opinion seemed to be that we broke both of the cardinal wedding party rules - we pulled the focus away from the bride, and we did not look like a magazine spread. The bride was astonished and forthright: "It never occurred to me NOT to have them just because they were pregnant. These were the women I wanted there with me."

More than two decades later, when my daughter was planning her wedding, matching bridesmaid dresses were out of style. It was referred to as being "matchy matchy," and derided as an outdated and unflattering custom. "There's no way that one style of dress will look good on everyone," the experts said.

My daughter stood firm. Non-matching dresses were a chaotic mess. She would have matching ones. People tried to talk her out of it. They pointed out that her wedding party ranged from short and round to tall and thin. They told her that her photos would look dated. She didn't care. I applaud that; everyone else gets to plan their OWN wedding, not someone else's.

And the handmade dresses were gorgeous.

My niece got married at roughly the same  time of year as my daughter and I had, only five years later - just this past spring. She had a similarly spring-like color palate.

One of her bridesmaids asked her, during the wedding planning, "Can I wear black tights and shoes?" My niece responded, "If you want to. The other girls will be bare legged in white shoes, but do whatever you want." Talking with me about it, over a month later, my niece said, "I really didn't care. If she wanted to wear black tights, she should wear black tights." She paired them with cute black ankle boots and a chunky black necklace. I think that everyone looked amazing.

My niece also had a 16 year old flower girl, instead of a small cherub. She wanted to include her cousin, and to have someone old enough and responsible enough to pair with the 2 year old ring bearer, in case he was uncooperative.

Yes, everyone looked great. But most important, in my opinion, is that my niece put people over image. She wanted everyone to be as happy and comfortable as she was on her special day. You ask people to join you because you love them, not because they're window dressing.

In short, I'm pretty proud of having people in my life who value a little bit of individuality. We may all be in this together, but we are not all the same.

Polynesian Dancers

Years ago, after I attended the wedding reception for the son of a Tongan friend, I told my oldest daughters, "You should marry someone from a really cool culture; none of this boring, white bread American stuff." They stared at me as if I was crazy. At 13 and 14, they had no interest in discussing weddings.

If you have no Polynesian friends, you're missing out. No one throws parties like Polynesians.

At the recent reception for our friends from our church congregation, the bride's sister, cousins and friends prepared dances as gifts to the couple. It was just gorgeous.

-

 My kids can marry whoever they want; but, I know who I'm hiring if I'm ever asked to plan a party.

All photos: copyright The Reflection Works Photography
Dancers: Poly Nui Girls