ALEXANDER WANG for Father’s Day

Today they arrived. They have nothing to do with food or the business of catering but their texture is so buttery that I feel compelled to spread them on toast. I want to strap them around my ankles everyday I am not at the kitchen which is on average twice a month. In the previous weeks, as I rolled dough and whipped up cake batters, I occupied my mind with precisely how much of my closet this online purchase would work with. Answer: sixty-five percent. Sold. Before I tore them out of their elegant box, wild and at the ready with one foot naked and bare, I paused. 


There was only one person to call upon who would appreciate this splurge as much as I did.


Mom, you gotta see these new sandals. They have woven straps like a Mayan basket at LACMA. You’ll want to borrow them. You have to come see them right away. They look like feet bondage, but without any Pulp Fiction weirdness. I think I may have to wear them to bed.


Immediately she was at my side. She watched me slip them both on and twirl around and around and then sharply noted that their small heel would prevent her tall daughter from towering over most of mankind. Always a bonus.


You’ll have to comb your hair with fancy shoes like that, she instructed. And wear make-up. And you should sleep more, you look haggard. You need your sleep, doll.


I know, I know, I say to her picture as I carefully pick it up to put back in my vanity. I keep it tucked away because if I accidentally pass by it without any prompts, it rips my heart out.


I tie on my apron and wash my face. The kitchen calls and my dad will be visiting today. He’s the only one who misses her more than I do.


Your mother would’ve been so proud of this business, he marvels, shaking his head. He says this every week he comes by, every week that we have a new employee or a new write-up or a new build-out or a new vehicle. It amazes me, he says. I wish she could’ve lived to see it.


She does, I want to say but I don’t. I’m afraid if I explain any of it out loud, she’ll go away and I’m not ready for that yet. Mother’s Day came and went, and so did her birthday, just yesterday, but we were so busy with caterings from early morning until late in the night that I had no time to feel any tremors. Now there’s just Father’s Day.


Dad, how about swinging by Bar Covell for Brunch tomorrow and then Silverlake Wine for the Tasting at 3? I’ll give you a kiss for Dad’s Day and we’ll hang out and eat Matt’s food and make jokes. It’ll be fun.


That sounds good, but only if you get some sleep tonight.


Sure, I’ll even comb my hair and wear make-up.


Your mother always loved when you cleaned up.


I know, I say, I know.


*


Come join us for Father’s Day at Bar Covell from 11-2 and Silverlake Wine at 3:00. I shall pressure the rest of the crew to clean up too but it is I who will be wearing the fanciest shoes.