Confessions of an Italian Shoe Lover

by Sandy Gregory, CITM

This story is about a subject that has, only recently, become close to my heart ... and feet.

Italian shoes.

For a long time, I thought the obsession with elegant shoes was the indulgence of a select class of actresses and socialites picking around in spike heals with grimaces of pain on their faces in the name of fashion. I was a Colorado girl, who of course valued hearty “sensible togs” to get me up the hill. My fashionable sister-in-law, strolling around in her size-5 heels, would wince at my Uggs, my Tevas and especially my MBTs (Massai Barefoot Technology! Note that if you wear them, you will soon have the body of a tall, emaciated aborigine.) She didn’t understand that my feet should be comfortable. Period. Fancy shoes: I didn’t see the value; didn’t see the reason. That is, however, until I happened into the Nero Giardini shoe store in Rome …

I needed a pair of dress shoes for the dinners on my tour, so I popped in to take a look. From the corner of my eye, I spotted a neutral-colored suede sandal with a platform heel and a flower pattern on the toe. “These would do, probably match everything I had,” I quipped. When I put them on, however, they did more than just “do.” A change began to come over me. I started to feel a slight tingle in my toes. I felt taller, longer, leaner. Within minutes, I transformed from a jock with an athletic lumber to a swan gliding above the ground. I wasn’t just walking, I was flowing. I felt beautiful and sexy. Strong and powerful. And wow, these shoes were comfortable. I was literally swept off my feet. It was a Cinderella moment.

You cannot deny the power of the shoe.

Soon I was tapping into my inner Carrie Bradshaw. I began dreaming about shoes. Beautiful shoes. Sexy shoes. Gorgeous Italian shoes made of lush, luxurious fabrics and leathers. Shoes that combined fashion and style with comfort and durability. How did they do that?

Soon people began to notice. My guests asked me where I shopped. I eagerly took them and vicariously lived their thrill. I stalked unknowing Italian women, studying their choices and learning their skill. I began scouring the stores looking for my next find: genuine snake skin sandals ... hand-made and perfect. Red heels ... so simple, so very right. I horded my tips and counted my Euros. Could it be done? Yes, next week. Who needs to eat! Besides, I can find the deals. I just need more time!

Ti amo! Ho bisogno di te! Io voglio te! (I love you! I need you! I want you!)

Who could say if this addiction was manageable, controllable, or even understandable?

Then came the intervention.

One day, as I was saying goodbye to my guests, one gentlemen held out his hand with an envelope. (Tips: never expected, always appreciated). He kindly wished me the best and good fortune to my two boys in college. At that moment reality set in: Oh yea, tuition. Kinda forgot about that. I quickly realized I needed to get myself together and vowed to manage my addiction. One day at a time.

It’s ok. I’m fine now. I know that shoes will always be there for me, just like a good friend. They will never judge me or let me down, and will always lift my spirits. But right now, Italian shoes are an extravagance that should be left to the fashionistas. I need to focus my efforts on the more practical.

... scarves.

Follow Me: The Adventures of the QueensLander Tour Captains

Tour Captain Journal Entry ~ Dateline Venice, Italy

By Sandy Gregory, QueensLander Tour Captain, CITM

My Favorite Things - Venice

Venice oozes history. The city has a unique mystique that one encounters nowhere else in the world. I’m not talking about the Venice filled with thousands of day-trippers, gondola traffic jams and hawking merchants selling carnival masks, but rather the city itself. Venice is a work of art, comprised of 117 tiny islands connected by 400 bridges over 150 canals. The buildings are an eclectic match of Renaissance arches, Gothic points and Byzantine filigree hanging on to each other for dear life, their skin peeling and foundations slowly collapsing. Venice makes you feel as though you have stepped onto a movie set, looking almost exactly as it has for a thousand years. So to me, tenacity is the art of Venice. The city is sinking and the sea is rising. But for centuries it has defied time by standing still.  It’s a city that should not exist, yet still does. Who knows whether technology and/or human behavior will save Venice?  Until it finally sinks into the Adriatic, it will be much more to me than just a postcard snapshot.

The Water and the Light: The first thing my guests do when they walk out of the Venice airport is climb into a boat. The half-hour water taxi into Venice is a visual sensation.  As the morning fog lifts, the sun glitters and dances on the water. Along the Grand Canal, the water reflects brightly colored facades and their tumbling flower boxes. As we move through the maze of twisting canals, we hear the sound of water lapping at the walls to the rhythm of the gondoliers’ accordions. When my guests step out of the water taxi and into the gold-gilded foyer of our hotel, I always know we’re off to a good start.  Because as far as first impressions go, the water and light of Venice always do my job for me.

Getting Lost: I always begin my tour of Venice by taking away my guests’ maps and telling them to get lost. Venice is a busy maze of twisting streets, narrow alleys, and dark green mysterious canals where maps are useless and just no fun. You can’t really get too lost because you’re on an island after all. My advice to them is to just keep walking. Caught in a crowd? Go the other way. A dark alley? Go down it. You’ll never know what you might find on those quiet back streets where the real Venetians live and work. When I get myself lost (which probably happens more often than it really should), I often stop and wonder what’s behind those groaning doors on huge iron hinges. Or I visit with a 95-year old haberdasher while she sews the plumes onto her magnificent hats. Or I join a small crowd standing below the window of an opera singer and listen in awe as she warms up for her performance at the Finece. I find trinkets, treasures and off-the-beaten-path trattorias that would not have been discovered and enjoyed if I just didn’t get lost.

Venice at night

Venice at night is very romantic. The lights twinkle and cut through the fog, creating the ambiance of a spooky mystery novel. I feel very safe, however, strolling alone in the late evening, because the locals come out to mingle, and dark alleys open up onto to lively piazzas. A few weeks ago, the sound of music lured me to Piazza San Sebastian and into a small church, where a group of tuxedoed musicians were playing Vivaldi. It was magical. I also enjoy the dueling café orchestras in the Piazza San Marco. Piano, violins, and accordions play waltzes and classical music, each orchestra deferring to the next, while people sit and drink, dance in the square, or enjoy a gelato. But what I most love about Venice at night is the silence. The cruise ships have left and the crowds aren’t drowning out the natural buzz of the city. After a long day of attending to people, Venice at night allows me to relax, be in my own thoughts, and get ready for another busy day.

When not leading tours, Sandy Gregory is a freelance graphic designer and copywriter (sandy.gregory@earthlink.net), and an e-mail marketing specialist at Hanna Design in Greenwood Village, CO. (www.hannadesign.com).