By Barbara Falconer Newhall
Fashion week is winding down in New York City today. I’m not in New York to report on that high-profile scene. But I’ve got some footwear photos I took–discreetly–of the stylish parade of legs, ankles and shoes rushing past me as I waited a very long 90 minutes for a flight out of SFO last month.
How many minutes are there in a single a human life anyway? Roughly 52,560,000 if you live to be 100. That sounds like a big number, but it’s a finite one no matter how you cut it.
There I was at the San Francisco airport, aging away, using up my minutes on being painfully early for the flight that would take Jon and me to Minneapolis and a visit with our son and daughter-in-law and their new house in the cityi. How to avoid squandering that particular 90 minutes of my precious milliions?
By looking at things through the lens of my trusty point-and-shoot, of course. It was tucked away in my carry-on. Out it came. And with that, the scene that at the beginning of my 90 minutes had seemed a messy blur of people in a rush to be anywhere but here transmogrified itself into a work of art.
There were all sorts of people inhabiting their moment in time at SFO that day. I took pictures of their bare legs, flashing ankles, but especially of their feet moving through the airport with intention and big summer plans.
Who’s more fashionable — these women traveling through San Francisco on a summer day? Or the women of Shanghai on a hot day in September at “Shanghai Chic — Where a Woman’ s Style Starts With Her Shoes.” Also — can a woman be too old for splashy earrings?
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