Who Am I To Compete With Melanie Griffith?

One of the lesser-known facts about my divorce is that I recently reclaimed my wedding gown and accessories. Better to have a ceremonial burial than to let them rot in the dumpster of my now-ex French country house.

Bonfires are illegal in New York City, thus I had to be creative about the, ahem, disposal of said items.

The gown, although absolutely stunning, has a not-so-accidental red wine stain down the back, courtesy of the woman who threatened to wear a white dress to the wedding ceremony (you know who you are). Alas, as the gown is no longer eligible for resale, I may take the suggestions of The New York Times to heart and play Ophelia.

As for the very nice ivory satin handbag and shoes, I searched the web for a place that could dye them....black. As it turns out, one of the best places in Manhattan for shoe dyeing is not far from my office. Thus, I marched over, shoes and bag in hand, ready to later reclaim them as accessories. Little did I, a mere mortal, know, shoe dyeing at this particular establishment is not taken lightly.

I entered a seventh floor space in a nondescript Malkovich-esque office building, to see a wall of shoes to the right and a massive display of signed celebrity photographs behind the counter. A middle-aged lady entered behind me. Nobody came to the front desk despite the commotion. There was a bell on the counter. Dare I ring it? Finger poised above it, I glanced into the back of the shop and saw movement.

An extremely short, dark, and hairy man took his time to stroll to the desk. He said nothing. So, I politely stated that I would like a pair of shoes dyed. He gruffly asked what color. I said ivory and he bluntly refused to dye any shoes that were not pure white. (But isn't that the name of the shop?)

I swayed him with a combination of persistence and sheer Southern charm. Finally he gave in and agreed to dye the shoes black. I lost on the bag.

The paperwork took a good twenty minutes, during which I stared at all of the signed celebrity portraits: Oprah, Prince, Antonio Banderas, Melanie Griffith...the list goes on and on. No, the celebrities were not there dyeing wedding shoes, rather, they benefited from the custom made shoes offered by my charming interlocutor. They start at $795 a pop, and "the sky is the limit" in terms of both price and what can be fabricated based upon your extremely good or extremely bad taste, as evidenced by some of the samples on the wall.

It is now over one month later, and no shoes.

After all, who am I to compete with Melanie Griffith? I am a nobody. And that is why I have had the time to write this entire blog entry while on hold with the charming proprietor of T.O. Dey.


That leaves the veil.