Founder Blake Mycoskie and Sole Surfer/Social Media Manager Caitlin were on hand to greet bloggers and I thought the story behind what the mission of TOMS is, was a great narrative used to fill the space. It was good to hang out a bit with Siel of GreenLAgirl too (and Dani from Mosaic, who works for TOMS!). Along the length of the store is the timeline of the company’s history on display, from recruiting interns on Craigslist to the launch of the pop-up store not a mile from where TOMS was founded.

If you don’t know already, for every pair of TOMS you buy, a child in need gets a pair of his or her own.

Podoconiosis is a form of elephantitis and a soil-transmitted yet easily preventable disease had people worn shoes to protect their feet. It’s rampant particularly in Ethiopia and the target of TOMS Shoes. Half-to-one million suffer from Podo while 11 million are at risk. So you can feel good each time you buy a pair of these stretchy and comfy kickers. The more you wear them, the more they form to your foot.

In addition to their basic model and all the variety of cloths, textures and colors available, they recently came out with a wrap boot. I’m not so much a fan but then again, how could a shoe company not embrace their own style boot? I stuck with a brown plaid pair of shoes that will go with my loungey and natural-toned moods. Range of pricing starts at $42 up to $65 for shoes and as much as $118 for their new wrapped boot. Vegan varieties are also available.

The store will be there only until the end of January so be sure to make a visit before they’re gone to learn more about the company and to donate a pair of shoes to a child while getting a pair of kicks for yourself. After all, it’s always fashionable to be humanitarian. (They have guys’ shoes too!)

TOMS Shoes Pop-up Store
1617 Abbott Kinney Blvd.
Venice, CA 90291
10AM - 7PM

I’d been up there enough times. I don’t really expect people to know this, per se, and well - all reckless behavior should be reprimanded at all times no matter committed by whom.

Apparently, my carelessness was as readily apparent as was slick the OneBallJay wax on the bottom of my snowboard (and actually, my board was really pretty dry). We were at the top of the gondola. I dared rest my snowboard on its flat probably a whole 30 feet away from the edge of Climax - just inside the frame taken above.

Thankfully, Ski Patrol helped bring to light the error of my ways. I call this, Enlightenment.

“Is this your board over here?” the red, black and white-dressed patrolman in ski boots asked me. There were probably 10 other people - total - around the entire landing, which is large.

“Yeah,” I responded. What a funny question to ask, I thought. Maybe I had a limited edition snowboard and I didn’t even know it.

He proceeded to reach down and turn my board over so that the bindings were touching the snow. “When you’re standing around, you’re gonna wanna turn your board over so that your bindings are facing down,” he says.

Call me crazy but - bindings down or not - I think overall board awareness at all times is more important. And I think I have that. No upside down snowboard is going to stop itself from going downhill, anyway. Also, no one else was even near me, which might be the only scenario I could think of that might cause someone to haphazardly kick my board 30 feet and over the edge of Climax, the nearest bluff. I carry the sense around me of where my board is at almost all times, including if my snowboard might slide away.

You know, though. He made a simple suggestion. Who am I? Certainly not Ski Patrol.

And then he drops a bomb.

“Because you know, you’re responsible if you kill someone.” The best part about it was there was no expression on his face except a completely deadpan look.

Drunk on “power,” much? Huh. Interesting. Pray tell me, “So what situations would I NOT be responsible if I killed someone?”

No “someone could get seriously hurt at the bottom,” nor a simple “your board could go off the ledge” if somebody even kicked it. But *I* would be responsible if *I* killed someone. Thank you, Ski Patrol a.k.a. Cops on Skis. Don’t hate me because you failed police academy. I know, you get the short end of the stick because instead of getting to set up speed traps as a source of municipal revenue all you get to do is harass innocent little Asian girls about their homicidal snow equipment - but hell if you won’t make the most of it.

You probably live in Mammoth Lakes, Mr. Ski Patrolman, and you have great pride that you’re a local. I completely respect that. And I know there are a lot of us L.A. punks who come up every weekend and ruin all y’all locals’ traffic on Old Mammoth Road to have you eagerly anticipating every winter Sunday night when we finally leave town and go home. I apologize for that. But who’s supporting your businesses? I do my best not to act like the Urban Cowboy Hipster who comes into town and thinks she’s all high and mighty over you Funny Mountain People. If I had the guts I’d move to Mammoth for a couple years, myself, so really - you have my props. And I try and be courteous and respectful in all local establishments, I swear.

I respected Mr. Ski Patrolman’s God-given authority rolled my eyes. This particular season pass holder certainly does not plan on killing anyone this particular trip in Mammoth, but thanks.

Punk.

Apparently, this was their 2nd time holding the event and it definitely did not disappoint.

I had a great time with HC of LA-OC Foodie and Caroline. Luckily they arrived earlier than I did and were able to snag a table for us three to sit comfortably. And the 4-course menu?

• Bouffèes de Fromage avec Denis Pere & Fils Brut, Burgundy, France - $24.99/bottle

Bouffèes de Fromage: Also known as cheese puffs. But give me a minute here. I’m serious. The light flavor of the white champagne was - seriously - a nice compliment to the artificial, powdered cheese. And the bubbly kept the air in the puffs (or should I say “bouffèes?”) whistful, even whimsical. Yeah, artificial cheese powder can get whimsical - you betcha.

I know you’re laughing, but we went back for more Target brand cheese puffs (yes, we even asked) - 2 times.

• Charcuterie de 7-Eleven avec Paul Hobbs Felino Vina Cobos Malbec 2007, Mendoza, Argentina - $17.99/bottle

I’m sure Argentinian wine is delicious, but Charcuteries de 7-Eleven aka Slim Jims just are not. Sorry, folks, when I visit 7-Eleven and I feel like beef, I’ll get the Pemmican Beef Jerky at the very least. Trust me, I’m an expert on 7-Elevens; I live behind one.

I couldn’t give you an accurate assessment on this pairing - or even the wine for that matter - because the artificial grease from the Slim Jim pretty much would overpower any wine it’s paired up with.

• Frito Tarte avec Owen Roe Abbot’s Table Red 2007, Washington - $23.99/bottle

The Frito Lays topped with “Cincinnati-style” chili and cheese was hands down the most appetizing of the food bunch - and we were hungry. The red that accompanied it was a pleasant dry and spicy variety to really nicely bring out the kick in the chili. And of course, the cheddar cheese that topped the concoction made it an instant match since, well, what match with wine isn’t made more perfect with the addition of cheese? Great pairing!

• Gâteau au Chocolat en Plastique avec Barros 10 Year Tawny Porto, Portugal - $29.99/bottle

Ahh…dessert. Yeah, I know the picture is dark, but that’s a little Ding Dong in the corner there. Granted, our palates were, after artificial cheese, meat and Fritos, ready for a couple sweet somethings to soothe our taste buds. The Ding Dongs brought back memories from a sack lunch childhood but were enhanced by a very delicious port wine that was subtle and not too overpowering. It went down smooth and was like spiking the Ding Dong!

It was a unique experience and definitely something I’d try again - if not just for the novelty. But all the pairings did match (okay - even the Slim Jim to an extent) quite expertly and for $20, it was a fun afternoon at a bargain.

Also see HC’s take on the White Trash Tasting

and Caroline’s Take: Malbecs and Slim Jims at Colorado Wine Company

It’s not like I need a reminder. My 5′10″ blonde best girlfriend named Christina and I can swap shoes. I’m 5′4″ and she doesn’t necessarily have small feet for her height. It’s convenient for situations where either of us didn’t bring exactly the right pair of shoes and might be on the other’s side of town. If we didn’t like to buy pairs of shoes for ourselves as much as we do we’d be doing a lot more shoe collection consolidating.

Anyway, I had gotten a call in my car but my headset and cell had lost its sync. I turned into an alley to conduct the conversation legally (that means hands-free only) and was able to firm up plans for the night. As I finished and hung up, I realized that lo and behold, I had turned into the parking lot behind Miss Sixty on Melrose.

Miss Sixty, Miss Sixty … such fond memories. Right up there with Fornarina. Just really fun and edgy Italian fashion. There’s also a sub-brand called Killah, which is primarily only in Italy and say, Miami over here in the U.S. - but my favorite pair of shoes are Killah’s that I bought in Sorrento last year.

When I walked in and saw their shoe selection and was informed that all the shoes were 30% off, I got elated when I saw these…

Not only that - in addition - you save $10 for every $100 so essence that’s almost 10% more taken off.

The bad news came after I asked to try on my size. Or, the European equivalent of such. The girl helping me out said there was only an 8 and 10 and only ran in whole sizes. The other customer who had gotten there just before me - with whom I was having fun conversing with - got the last pair of 9s. I’m an 8.5 pushing 9. But I couldn’t not try them, so I said I’d try the 8 (EUR 38). She brought them out.

To my surprise I put my foot in and the toes didn’t even touch the toes in the boot. Awesome. And they were comfy. Roomy.

When I went up to pay for them, she looks at the box and says, “Oops - so you never even tried the 8’s; these are the 10’s.” That’s a EUR 40, by the way.

Amazing. I wear a size 10 boot, and I’m 5′4″. Seriously - I have friends my height who are a 7 shoe. It even duped me during puberty. I said to myself for about 2 years past growth spurt expiration, “Oh, I’ll keep growing taller - after all, look how big my feet are” as some sort of completely misguided consolation. As if there was definitively an ideal height to aspire to, or that we all necessarily want to be tall. After doing some online research, I found a conversion chart that says that the EUR 40 is more of a size 9.5-10 equivalent. And I stopped just short of feeling better about myself. Who cares? Size - like age - is just a number. If you wear it well, move on.

My snowboarding boots are a men’s 9. My graduation cap was a unisex large. Then again, my long fingers came in handy as they do for most musicians - so I guess it all depends on your perspective. I have ultimately concluded that I have an advantage in weight balancing while snowboarding because of the added foot surface area to distribute my weight across the ground.

After all, a “strength” is still a strength. You just have to regard it and use it in that way. (The big head? Obviously increased, added brain power. I know you’re jealous.)

That being said, I’ve found all my furniture through Craigslist. I’ve also found all my roommates through Craigslist (I’m not one of those “room with anyone already associated with your life”-types-of-roommates). It’s the single best resource that I can think of right now for a resident of Los Angeles.

The thing about going on the internet message boards to find out about carpooling to Vegas with other volunteers for Obama is that you can’t find out too much about people by the two sentences they write about, say, when they want to leave and come back, or the kind of vibe they expect in the car for that weekend. Also, when there’s only one of two presidential candidates left to support - I know there’s that phrase, “Great minds think alike” but seriously? There’s left and right; there’s also nice and not-so-nice. Annoying and not-so-annoying.

I think, though, that even with volunteering you do happen to narrow your sample because people involved aren’t just voters. They’re supporters and volunteers that would give up their time and pitch in a little (or a lot) to further something they happen to believe in. Without tootin’ the horn or anything, I had never thought that I would ever have enough motivation to participate in a general campaign. After all, that would take committing to something, or maybe even too much. That would be pretending - somehow - that the little (wo)manpower I could provide could actually make a difference.

If you really feel the essence of what’s going on, live the life you aim to elect - carpool. Save gas, save the environment. You don’t just get someone elected so they can’t do all the work for you.

In my carpool was a fifty-something Belizian woman with the sweetest demeanor and the driver of the bunch, a forty-something high school art teacher who has been with his partner for 16 years. Their marriage is recognized by the State of California; their house, an absolutely divine ’70’s-style open concept with mod furnishings, floor-to-ceiling windows and new landscaping out back (oh, and a dog plus three kittens).

We took turns driving and Rob was kind enough to enjoy our company, not charge us for gas - and even paid for our really pleasant, delicious Italian lunch between shifts on Saturday. Merilyn was the kindest, sweetest mother figure of the group. She showed so much caring. Did I mention that it was in the 60’s (degrees F) in Vegas? So as we went door-to-door to do our surveys it was actually pretty chilly with only our body movement to generate the heat we needed. I can honestly say that the work, while very tiring, was fun. The strong and not-so-strong reactions. The interesting conversations. Utilizing literature. Moving on to the next house after the door goes unanswered even though you knew you heard someone moving around inside.

I should rewind back to lunch, though. We had decided against the first two establishments we had walked into and got back in our car and kept driving. The menus just didn’t look appetizing so we’d decide to look for another place. We turned into many plazas, glorified and unglorified strip malls. And then at one of the business parks full of attorney and medical practices, we realized that we had driven straight into the McCain-Palin campaign headquarters.

What I wanna know is, How did they get a firetruck? Isn’t that a taxpayer asset being used for partisan purposes? Anyway, we had a play fight.

It was as if we had deliberately turned into their territory, parading in front of them with our blue peacock feathers splayed out for all to see. We shared some moments of … jeering and laughter … with a lot of “hooo” -ing and “hawww” -ing. They held up signs at our car, boo’ed at us; we held up our stickers up to them while laughing hysterically. The reality was that we were just looking for a good place to eat … while they then shouted, “Higher taxes!” at us. I was confused as to whether that was the best of what they had in their arsenal. Higher taxes for whom?

When we turned into the inside of the plaza, we realized there was really no way out but the way we came. And so, we just went back through the McSame-Palin mob. I suppose now it just looked like we were just trying to be jackasses. They pretended to put their stickers on our car. At one point, Rob (with his window already rolled down to hold up Obama bumper stickers/peacock feathers for all to see) stopped the car and asked a guy where a good place to eat was. He gave us directions to Gladstone’s.

We didn’t end up eating at Gladstone’s, but it was a moment in political activism solidarity for the books. Yeah, we may not understand each other much, but we all gave up our Saturdays to do this.

Not without its fun, though. Endless thanks to Jim and Jen for putting me up and showing me out. Also, for showing me surprisingly awesome small-plate Japanese food their budding Asian community has to offer. We also saw Santogold at the House of Blues after building our own burgers at The Burger Bar in Mandalay Bay. And then we went out in downtown LV, which has been undergoing a sort of revival. We checked out Downtown Cocktail Lounge, The Griffin and Beauty Bar. It was a nice change from the cheese you often find on the strip - more of a local, authentic vibe than inside the establishment of a huge casino club.

In closing, it was a really good trip. I can’t really reveal the specifics of the strategy of our canvassing* but I feel that I should stress that as long as you’re somewhat extraverted and excited about your candidate, it’s not an unsurmountable task. It’s even exciting at times. Getting to meet people along the way and hearing their stories and what brought them to the campaign is also an invaluable experience. I’m so glad I did it.

See my Vegas For Obama Flickr Set

*That being said, it seems like the L.A. Times has blown our cover a little bit, anyway:

- Californians for Obama are out to boost his odds in Nevada, L.A. Times

I’m heading to Vegas! The Obama Campaign has promoted its grassroot efforts in its contention for Nevada, which for both Bush elections has gone Republican. The last time it went Democratic was to elect Bill Clinton. It looks like the strategy of recruiting Californians to “Drive For Change” to all parts of Nevada has worked, too. From last week on October 3:

For the first time since July, Barack Obama has moved ahead of John McCain in Nevada.

The latest Rasmussen Reports telephone survey in the state shows Obama attracting 51% of the vote while McCain earns 47%. Last month, McCain had a three-point advantage in this key southwestern state.

- Rasmussen Reports

People living in Los Angeles County are assigned to the Las Vegas area while Californians living in other counties are assigned to other parts in Nevada. While I don’t expect the work to be the least bit glamorous, I just didn’t know if I could live with seeing McCain-Palin getting elected while looking back and knowing that I could have done more on my part. And so I signed up for Drive For Change. I’m bringing my sunblock!

I found a carpool with other Obama supporters and campaigners on their Drive To Nevada boards and linked up with a really generous guy who isn’t even charging for gas. Sweet!

It’s not without its entertainment, of course. I’ll be hosted by Jim and Jen and am looking to join them for the Santo Gold concert tomorrow evening.

… and from the looks of the market today, I’m somewhat relieved I took the day off. Hope you guys have a great weekend.

I also enjoy a view that is of the Presidential Box variety, as my cubicle is in an open-air mezzanine area shared with only a couple other coworkers. My coworker, Chris, and I have turned it into a sort of peanut gallery. We’re removed from the actual boiler room (read: we have our privacy) but are free to spectate and heckle to our heart’s desire. And no one below knows what’s coming. 

To complete the picture of my workday, I have a sales job. Actually, I think almost every single career - including in academia - is a sales job at the core. You have a product, which you have to convince a buyer or otherwise consumer of that product that it’s your product that they want, in exchange for compensation. But this career is a sales job at the core and on every appendage shooting out from it. It raises the temperature past those of other careers - especially in this market - but I have reason to feel extremely blessed. With all the market drama that’s been going on - I can honestly tell you that with our niche, there is NO other place on Wall Street I would rather be standing. (No “Main Street” mention here - thanksforlooking.) It would be modest to say that the company is having a pretty awesome year.

But back to the boiler locker room dynamics.

“Dude, so I was on this date with this Asian girl last night…” He stopped, because he saw that I was making my way down the aisle. And then he greeted me, “Oh, hi Esther.”

I had to ask. “Yeah, man - was she hot? Or was she just Asian and that was enough?”

I actually wanted to know - as a point of inquiry and curiosity, not an accusation. Necessarily.

I like to ball-bust nip things in the bud, and it’s probably the most valuable thing I’ve learned here. Part of it definitely stems from the need to actively push back because otherwise, that testosterone, that “other force” is overbearing. And the guys, likewise, know what they get from me. If you tell a Bro Story within my earshot with the intention of getting the guys to think more highly of you as a result of your latest conquest, you better know it’s fair game for me.

I’m also the most avid belcher in the office. Make of that what you will. One time after one of my impromptu performances, a rookie seeking solidarity with his newfound coworkers said within earshot of everyone, “Well, that’s ladylike” as if it were the aim of every female to be viewed as “ladylike” in the minds of all her coworkers. That the highest she could aim would be to fit her lifestyle and mannierisms to all the accepted mores, norms and indications of “Ladylikehood” to the acceptance of all men worldwide officewide. To their credit, my longtime coworkers said, “Just wait; you’ll see, man.”

I told him, “Oh honey - you don’t even know. Are you the PC or employee conduct police around here now? You can bring up ladylikeness when you can get rid of the sexist locker room talk that goes on around here.”

Yes, it is too much to expect some sort of friendly coworker camaraderie from me or even divested attention to your self-indulgent small talk after I hear you make misogynist comments and gestures every single day.

Salesmen.

Adaptation is a skill, but if you betray one face for another then the ante on your credibility is on the line. The creep factor amongst salesmen, period, is seemingly more obvious.

Jimmiwin said it best: “Guys are creepy only if the attraction isn’t reciprocated.”

Good point. Because then it would just be flirtation, now wouldn’t it? But seriously? What if you just exude creepiness overall? While I think Jimmiwin is mostly right, I think it may just be an excuse that takes the responsibility off the guy. There are undoubtedly guys whom many women think are creepy.

What is creepy, then? Lack of selectivity? The sometimes-perpetual feeling you get that they want something from you that you’re never going to give to them? The type of guy who plays the numbers game - and in that respect, should we not hate the player but hate the game? I know a large part of my overall jadedness with my coworkers (not to be confused with my career) is the fact that I’ve worked here for 5 years. While the work may be an inspiration to my daily routine, more coworkers simply aren’t than are. Anyway, this is fine because hey - don’t poop where you eat. Just get in there and get out!

The thing about Los Angeles is, it can be 80 degrees in the day but at night, you’ll still be wishing you had a sweater, jacket or wrap. The reason for this I’ve always thought was, since we’re essentially in the dessert, there exists so little moisture that the heat from the day doesn’t stay around like it would in a more humid climate - for example, the Midwest. However, I also noticed that in Austin last week, the nights were also very hot even though the air seemed dry - so there goes that argument. The type of dry in Texas, though, seems to be of a “Savannah” kind, if that explains anything whatsoever.

Either way, the large difference between the high and low of the day in L.A. always takes visitors by surprise. Almost always expect a “chilly” night in the 60s, even on more than half our summer days.

As for me. I have a hooded, camel-colored shawl that I sometimes keep in the Mini. It’s acrylic. It’s got a loose diamond weave. And my girlfriends have made fun of me for wearing this - my “grandma’s shawl” - before.

I got it on sale a few months back. But that’s not the only reason I bought it. I actually really like it. I don’t think I’m usually too far off when it comes to clothes or accessories; but there have been instances where I’ve had cause to question my own judgment.

Like the time when, two nights in a row, I was told by two different guys, “You’re brave to wear that.”

What?

I’m “brave” to wear this shawl? What gives? I mean, you can insult me - I can handle it. All I ask, though, is that you just give it to me straight. No need to make it veiled or underhanded. What would make me so “brave” so as to wear this thing that I’ve paid with my own good money? That’s like saying, “Wow, you’re so brave to be seen out in public with that third eye on your forehead.”

I was thinking that maybe what they meant was that the shawl isn’t exactly “L.A.” enough. As in, you only really wear that heavy sweater material stuff in cold climates. Not L.A. (Like how you have a really nice coat if you live in New York. Our version of that would be perhaps 3 different colors of Members Only jackets - I kid.) They could really be saying, “You’re really brave to think bringing your grandma’s Midwest fashion sense is gonna work.”

What’s strange is that both conversations that ensued actually evolved the same way. They both repeated, “You’re wearing a shawl!” But then it turned complimentary - both times. “It’s so high fashion,” they’d explain. High fashion? Okay, are you really mocking me now?

I’m just gonna stop thinking about it.