A 3-inch stiletto heel for my 87-year old Mom… ?

I know I’ve officially labeled my Mom, Rita, as the first Fashionista I ever knew.  Because she is.

This is a photo of my Mom & Dad in 1965.  I still remember this lovely dress and how lovely my Mom looked in it.  She was the epitome of grace, beauty and style.  I wish the photo went all the way to Rita’s shoes… always spiked heels to bring her tiny 4’11” up to, as she would say, “Over 5 feet!”

This was, and still is, my Mom.

And Rita was, and still is, at 87 years old, a Fitness Fashionista, too.

In other words, my Mom has always been on a mission to stay fit and healthy in order to enjoy her inner and outer Fashionista.

(The apple, or stiletto, doesn’t fall far from the Rita-tree with my daughters, Audrey and Jane.)

So all of this brings me to Jane’s upcoming July wedding and Rita’s, “What am I going to wear?”

Well, we found a simply perfect dress with a lovely little jacket to match at Macy’s, one of Rita’s go-to stores.  My Mom calls the dress and jacket the perfect blue ensemble for a small, intimate Catholic church ceremony and harbor-front reception at the charming Bristol Yacht Club to follow…

(The dress needs minimal alterations, which makes it all the more perfect.)

I LOVE the dress and I LOVE the dress on my Mom.  The fabric and design flow like the soft waves on the harbor.  It has a bit of tasteful bling at the bodice, which Rita will beautifully adorn with something from her jewelry collection (lots of costume jewelry that people stop and admire all the time.)  My Mom has an eye for beauty and elegance on a shoe-string!

Which brings me to shoes.

Rita loves shoes.

OK.  I inherited this little genetic thing.

I love shoes, too.

But when you get to be 87 years old and you have arthritis, spinal stenosis, a sciatica situation and scoliosis undiagnosed as a child… well, you’ve got to be careful with shoe choice.

Right?

Please tell me I’m right.

(I will insert here that my Mom, well before her time, was an athlete as a child.  She ran (as in races), she played basketball (all 4’11” of her), she swam… and she made sure each of her 3 children were involved in every physical activity available.  I will be forever thankful to my Mom for her get-out-and-go mothering.  My childhood was all about my Mom swimming, riding bikes, hula-hooping, golfing, bowling, dancing, handstands on the front yard, driving us to our lessons/practices and always preparing good, healthy food.

Rita was way, way ahead of her time.

And even with some of her health problems as she’s aged, Rita still walks a mile a day, up and down the long corridors of her senior citizen complex AND she does weight training at her Senior Center.  She amazes physicians and physical therapists alike, who always comment that her decades-old fitness routine is why she is even able to walk today.)

Oh, back to walking.

And shoes.

My Mom was mortified of the photo of her in the blue dress and jacket… because of the sneakers and white socks in the  mirror’s reflection.

The Fashionista Credo: “I hope nobody thinks I’m wearing those!”

Wedding Shoe shopping last week became somewhat of a mother-daughter reverse responsibility/control thing where THE SHOE WAS ON THE OTHER FOOT kind of situation.

We began at Cohoes, with its rows and rows and rows of the sights, sounds and delicious smells of shoes.

Rita loved these, “And how they’ll match the sparkle in the dress!”…

I must say that these lovelies did comply to most of my criteria for Rita walking, dancing and comfortably enjoying Jane & Brian’s Wedding Day:  Enclosed back, tight strap, moderately enclosed front, sensible heel.

But the heel?

May be a bit too high, Rita.

But she loved them.

OK.

Searched box after box after box.

They didn’t have her size.

But before I had time to take a breath, Rita had these beauties ON…

Oh, Mom… your feet may be a bit too wiggly in these.

OK.

I was feeling like a kind of self-imposed shoe and sole bummer when Rita found these, rolled up her capris and slipped into them, Cinderella-style…

Oh, how I love and admire my Mom’s daring, fancy, love of fashion and eye for the perfect match for the dress…

But the heel?  Up steps.  Down steps.  On the lawn at the Yacht Club.  Dancing.  Heck, just walking.  And not one criterion met.

I had to talk Rita down from those shoes. Gently.

“Mom… I want your day to be perfect.  Not worrying about twisting your ankle, falling… never mind the comfort factor.”

I could sense the Fashionista was ready for me.

“All right,” Rita said.  “We have some time to get the wedding shoes.”

Sigh of daughter relief.

“But,” Rita added, “while we’re here, I need some casual summer shoes.”

And that, we did…

I told you my Mom’s my first Fashionista!