by Barbara Poelle
I am in California- LA first and then up to the Bay Area to hang with Sophie Littlefield and friends (A Bad Day For Sorry, pre order NOW on Amazon! Do it!) and I am a little bit homesick. I used to live here, Los Angeles, surviving on a diet of club soda and rage-all toned and feral. Ahh, those were the days: when I used oxygen as a food group and carbohydrates were on the same level as pedophiles. Oh, size two; you have gone the way of the jelly shoe. I miss you both.
Which reminds me, I have to look dirty hot for a wedding in June, and I think the best way to get there would be to roll around in some swine flu, but statistically speaking I have more of a chance of getting injured by my own toilet than catching that so I guess I’m out of luck. Where’s Captain Tripps when you need it?
This wedding is going to be amazing and I know I am supposed to say that it’s going to be all about celebrating the love of Husband’s Bro (known from here on out as HBro) and Posh (no, seriously, HBro’s wife2be looks exactly like Posh spice. Exactly. Thank goodness I bear such a strong resemblance to Gene Wilder so that we both get fake celeb attention when we go out or I might feel bad about myself.) Anyway, I know I am supposed to be all about love and eternity and stuff, and I am, don’t get me wrong, If I could have HAND PICKED HBro’s wife I would have picked Posh. Oooh, I wish I could have. Like on a sweet yet sassy reality show called “My HBro’s Keeper” where husband and I would choose the bride for HBro by making them do weird and accidentally suggestive things. Posh would have MURDERED the competition. Seriously. At the end of the show there would just be Posh standing there, slightly out of breath, while holding a hunk of human hair and one Jimmy Choo.
Anyway, so Posh is going to be gorgeous and the wedding is a stunning outdoor spectacle and everyone will live happily ever after, but let’s talk about the bestest most fabulous part of the whole thing: my bridesmaid shoes. Oh, yes, strappy fuchsia Kate Spades, screw the photo album, you are now topping the list of things to rescue in a fire (are you paying attention Husband?). These shoes are so spicy, so naughty/nice that my joyous weeping at the altar may have nothing to do with the nuptials.
Shoes are such a passé obsession, I know, but the thing is that these shoes will not only change the way that I feel and look, but how I carry myself. For example, I used to sing a bit of opera. Don’t get excited. Only Root and vodka can make me sing. Anyway, sometimes I had trouble hitting this E over high C and my voice teacher would make me bring my highest heels to the session and bam! I floated that sucker like it had wings. Then when I had to do a particular lower section she would make me take me shoes and socks off and sing barefoot. Nailed it. This insured that I knew I had the notes in me when it was go time.
This is something to think about as far as characters. No, stay with me here. There is a famous actor who picks out his character’s shoes before even stepping on the set. Think about it. They affect stature, carriage, stride, gait, motion, and stance and those attributes in turn can help create the foundation of a persona. I’m just saying, next time if you are in a jam trying to figure out a new angle to take for your character, try starting with the feet.
If it helps, I’ll post a picture of my feet from the wedding. You can thank me later.
PS-On a total side note, I got this from Allison today. Check it out...she'll comment more in a bit....
I'd like to post a brief Outrage, Shock, & Call to Action! I just found out that my mom's school district's board is voting next week to possibly eliminate the position of "librarian" in their schools. (My mom teaches 5th & 6th grade music.)So if we have any Wisconsin readers, email the board and encourage them to keep the librarians employed....
