Gone shoppin'

[tikistitch]

Tuesday was a day of RETAIL MANIA here at Casa de Tikistitch, aided and abetted by some crafty Euro-buddies. Shall we recap?

We started the day at John Fluevog Shoes. If you ever glance at the LJ rumblings of the Steampunkers, you are no doubt in awe of their strangely retro-future collection of quality footwear. As it happens, our Italian officemate had located an actual retail store only a handful of blocks (and all downhill!!!) from Casa de Tiki. We decided a reconaissance mission was in order.

And the fabled shoes?

They are even cuter in person.

We soon however fixated on...




...which are also even cuter in person.

HOWEVER!



As you might guess from the photo image, these short boots lack a zipper or any kind of fastener. They are, to be blunt, Barbie shoes. Basically, either your whole foot goes inside, or it doesn't.

Or, in tiki's case, one foot went inside, the other didn't.

Which wouldn't have been much of an obstacle, we think, in many a shoe shop since the advent of a clever device called a shoehorn. However, as we struggled yesterday with our uncooperative left heel, the clerk who had brought out the shoes, Almighty Arbiter of Fluevog, stood aside quietly seething at our offense against his beloved footwear. Instead of occupying himself by running for a shoehorn, as has been our experience when a clerk wants to actually, ya know, sell a shoe, he chastized us from up high. "You're putting them on wrong!" he noted helpfully. Which seemed an odd remark, as tiki has been successfully maneuvering shoes onto her feet on an almost daily basis for longer than the particular clerk has been alive.

As we didn't want to further offend AAF, instead of broaching the seemingly tricky shoehorn subject, we quietly requested a half size larger. Sadly, though, our left heel still refused to cooperate with sizing rules of La Belle Fluevog, which only seemed to further incense AAF. Ignoring his fellow clerk's chirpy cheer of, "Oh, you gotta really tug those things the first time you put 'em on, they're tight!" he repeated his admonishment of our ineptness vis a vis donning footwear.

So. We left.

To never to dark in the Seattle John Fluevog shop again in our lifetime. Or, our nonexistent childrens' lifetimes.

(Though, our sweet Italian officemate has kindly offered to let us try on her pair. With, ya know, a shoehorn. 'Cause, the shoes? They're even cuter in person.)

Comments

[aoi-no-neko.livejournal.com]

I say, buy shoe horn, march in, if that sales clerk is there ask for a different person to help, try on shoes with shoe horn, and if they work buy them and make sure to tell whoever is there (hopefully the manager) what an ass that guy is.

I hate rude sales people. It's so unnecessary. I just wish they would get a flash of enlightenment every time they blew off a sale.

[tikistitch.livejournal.com]

I'm just always really confused by people who turn away money. Not everyone can wander into Fluevog and scoop up something on a kind of a whim. For a lot of my life, this wasn't something *I* could have done. (10 years ago, it would've meant living on ramen for 6 months.) I'm lucky enough that, right now, I can. I realize this. You'd think someone working in a shop, even if he decided that I'm the most uncool person in the universe, could suck it up for a few minutes to make a sale.

[mmymoon.livejournal.com]

Not liking money in the name of Cool always baffles me. Oh, I understand those who forsake earthly possessions for voluntary simplicity and such -- but because it's Cool?

Or worse, expect others to do so?

"I wish that this band hadn't gotten popular."

Why, because you want them to live a life of trendy-pious poverty and starve for the rest of their lives?

I may be shockingly old-fashioned for a young woman, but I was brought up with the wild notion that having lots of stockpiled money was Cool.

[jabberwockypie.livejournal.com]

I humbly suggest that people who wish to be Cool and broke give me their money.

My loss of Coolness will be a burden, but it's one I'm willing to accept for the greater good.

[aoi-no-neko.livejournal.com]

Sad thing, it's not just people in the more expensive shops that think having an attitude and dissing customers is the way to go.

I suggest added to who ever you complain to, if you do, that you got a really great amount of support for how bad that sales guy is, and how could that company treat people so badly, on your internet blog ;o)

[tikistitch.livejournal.com]

I ended up purchasing an identical pair online, and added a simple note that the clerk at their store hadn't been terribly helpful, and they could attribute the sale to my friend actually letting me try on *her* pair. They responded in what I thought was an appropriately contrite manner. So, my opinion of the company has improved, but I'm still just puzzled by the cranky clerk.

[mmymoon.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it would always KILL me when I was a clerk if one of my coworkers was rude and it soured the person on the store. If the other clerk was trying to be nice, I'd go in and tell the manager about the prissiness.

The NYC staff I spoke to on the phone were all very helpful, aside from my poor Southerner ears not being able to parse their clipped Yankee accents; I was assured the style ran tight in the toes and to pour rubbing alcohol in and the style would work itself out. Which it did, surprisingly well.

(Although, alas, I've decided that no matter how Cute they are, I shan't be getting anymore Fluevog heels, because heels are just a natural stumbling block, as it were, for my broad, tall self and feet. And as most of the styles that I find particularly adorable are heels...)

Cory absolutely adores the secondhand wingtips and the mens's platform sandals (!) I've picked up for him, though. But Doctor Marten provides me personally with a much more satisfying shoe experience.

[tikistitch.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it would always KILL me when I was a clerk if one of my coworkers was rude and it soured the person on the store. If the other clerk was trying to be nice, I'd go in and tell the manager about the prissiness.

According to my friend (for whom Fluevog is evidently a second home), unfortunately, the grumpy clerk was one of two male clerks who seem to be fixtures there - the nicer girl clerk was, I guess, just one of a constantly rotating staff of "girl clerks." So, I guess I could go back hoping that the *other* guy is around, and that he doesn't decide to be a jerk in solidarity. ^_^

Here's another odd thing: when I was trying on my friend's shoes, I figured out why the one foot went in and the other didn't. She happened to buy *the* actual pair I was having trouble with (since they had already brought them out, and they were cute). It looks like, since they were hand made, that the one that went on easily simply had a stiffening in the heel that went up a centimeter or two further than the one that kept getting stuck. So, it wasn't my weird feet, it was the boots. But as I've said, all it took was a 25 cent shoehorn, and they slipped right on.

[twotone]

Aw, sorry to hear about the unhelpful sales clerk! I guess he didn't want a commission, huh. :p

Our shoe-shopping was significantly less fashionable, but the sales guy made sure to measure both our feet (turns out I'm something like a size 5.5 on the right foot and size 6 on the left, which is a surprise since I've been wearing size 7.5 to 8.5 shoes) and was very good about trekking upstairs and bringing us different sized NEOS when the ones he'd gotten for us didn't fit. He did scold Daniel and tell him to "grow up" when Daniel admitted that he ruins the backs of his shoes by jamming his feet into them without re-lacing them. :p

[davidkevin.livejournal.com]

The not-a-sales-clerk undoubtedly thought that anyone who has enough money to be able to easily purchase their (in my opinion) ugly and overpriced shoes and boots is obviously not cool enough to deserve them.

As Heinlein once wrote, people like that need be slapped around or to have their toes tromped upon until they apologize.