birks and texts

A few weeks ago I received the above mystery text (I don't recognize the number and it's not in my contact list), which I assumed came from a NYC friend (UES= Upper East Side). But then again, perhaps it's someone from Birkenstock PR who somehow got my cell number....? Regardless, it got me thinking again about this hippie stalwart, which showed signs last year of reincarnating as fashion-forward footwear. Then yesterday I was in New York for the first time this sandal season, and lo and behold, I did indeed see some Birks about, executed in a comfortably chic way as seen below. (No, it's not New York, but wouldn't it be nice if the FDR looked like that?)

I must confess that I had long assumed that this comfie shoe I used to wear to Dead shows was not likely to find its way into my closet again. But since it now seems that Celine's iconic fur-trimmed version from Spring 2013 may have single-handedly resurrected this shoe (or at least sanctioned it as a fashionable option), and I have actually seen some women making it work, I am keeping an open mind. If I do feel inclined at some point, I'd go for this one or this one, or try something that is Birkenstock-inspired like this or this.

Now, having talked about the fashion, let's get back to that mystery text. It just so happens that in addition to putting sandals on my mind, it reminded me of an embarrassing incident from my past also involving unknown text senders, which I thought you might enjoy. And it's quite appropriate for LE CATCH, as it of course involves clothes, sort of:

A few years ago a friend of mine who had recently moved from New York to London was coming through LA on vacation and was planning to stay for a few days at the Beverly Hills Hotel. We had not seen each other in ages and exchanged some emails about meeting at the hotel or elsewhere before settling on lunch at The Tavern in Brentwood. On the appointed day, after attending my mommy-and-me class with my two-year- old, I headed over to the restaurant and was shown to our table. I was early, and I texted her to let her know I had arrived. Well, unbeknownst to me, she had ditched her New York (917) cell number that I had stored in my phone, but as you will see below, it took me awhile (and an unnecessary trip to the Beverly Hills Hotel) to figure that out. Here's the exchange with my "friend" (my texts are in green):

I should add that as I sat waiting in the hotel for my friend, it wasn't even the imposter's final text that clued me in. It was actually that my phone rang, and when I picked up, it was my friend calling me from The Tavern on her London cell phone wondering where I was!

Apparently, my mommy-on-the-brain ADD at the time was so severe (yes, that's what I'd like to blame it on), I had lost my ability to read, let alone to know when I was being mocked. I was SO mad, but it was pretty funny after the fact. And I have to give credit to this unknown prankster, whose preposterous messages somehow had me driving all over LA to meet them in their banana sunglasses so we could eat lamb's tail. And how did they know to zero right in on clothes when messing with me? Oh well, even though they did manage to disrupt my lunch plans, I deserved it, so I forgive them. But just barely.