I own and frequently wear a pair of shoes that often draw curious glances from friends who know me to be choosy in my selection of apparel. Recently, a pal of mine, who like my long-since departed parents spent most of his career working in the garment industry, asked me. “Lee, what’s with the retro look?”
“The shoes you’re wearing; where on earth did you find those pointy toed shoes?”
During the Seventies, Nordstrom Department Stores assembled a promotional package to test the Phoenix market. It included round-trip airfare with the newly formed Southwest Airlines, Friday and Saturday nights at the Bonaventure Hotel, Los Angeles, two lavish breakfasts rivaling the Vegas buffets of the day and generous discounts. I took part in the maiden voyage which left me with wonderful memories.
Atop one of the hotel towers was a park with trees and grass and hotel staff pampering and pandering about and pigeons to distract us from the tacky looking view of older, seedier tenements less than a block away. I compared this event with similar trips I occasionally took to Las Vegas in those years which included young, attractive people of both sexes apparently hired as shills to engage us in friendly banter as we pored over the hundred-dollar shirts and the Ballys and Cole Hahns in the leather footwear departments.
I smiled at the question and replied. “At Nordstrom, John; I bought them at Nordstrom.”