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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.)

Date: 2008-08-28 06:27 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 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.

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