Manolo for the Big Girl Fashion, Lifestyle, and Humor for the Plus Sized Woman.

Happy Monday, campers! Sorry for the radio silence last week but things were a-brewin’ at the newspaper and you know mama needs her jay-oh-bee.

Anyhoodle, as promised last week, I’m going to talk about how to spot a site selling fake shoes.

If you have to wonder: It’s fake.

Other than department stores, major shoe sites (Endless etc), designers’ flagship sites and these online-only retailers:

Bluefly
Forzieri
Luisa Via Roma
Net a Porter
Raffaello Network
YOOX
Zappos Couture

You’re taking a big chance.

Any site that has a url like www.louboutinstore.com or www.discountmanolos.com are always always always 100% fake.

Here are some other ways to spot a fake site:

• They use photos from other sites. Each vendor takes their own photos to coincide with their house style, so if you see the exact same photo at the questionable site and Neiman’s, you know something is up.
• The site looks wonky. If an online retailer has the cachet to get a luxury designer to agree to sell through them, they’re going to be able to afford top of the line photographers and web designers.
• The sales are too good to be true. I mean duh.
• They have Hermès Bags. If you can buy a Birkin on the site, you can just go ahead and forget about it. Fakesville.

What about eBay?

EBay is another kettle of fish, because you’ve got genuine sellers and the fakesters out there. Generally speaking I wouldn’t buy a pair of Loubies unless they had the actual store receipt and/or the tags were still on the sole of the shoe.

If a vendor has the same design of a high end shoe in several sizes, that’s a red flag. It’s more of a concern with ultra premium designers. Sometimes eBay sellers can buy out deadstock from Amazon or Overstock and resell them, but that’s not going to happen with Manolos and Loubies. You’re just NOT going to get a warehouse of Manolo Blahnik Sedarabys.

They only sell iconic shoes. The Sedarabys are a good example. They’re the shoes Carrie Bradshaw got stolen in Sex in the City. See also the Something Blue from the (stupid) movie. They’re the most iconic, so obviously they’re going to be the most imitated. Neiman’s sells the Something Blue pumps for $945. So the pair for $138? Faker than SJP’s marriage.

They don’t have the names. People who know about shoes talk about them by name. They’re not just Diors: they’re Blue Angels. They’re not Louboutin mary janes, they’re Iowas. Details count.

Signs of a legitimate eBay seller:

I tend to err on the side of caution. I won’t buy a premier designer shoe without the pricetag from a store I recognize and/or the receipt. On occasion I’ll make an exception, when an eBay seller is selling her shoe collection. For example, if someone wanted to sell me a size 36 Manolo a size 41 Loubie and a size 37 Dior, plus some Beanie Babies and some aluminum siding, I wouldn’t touch it. But if a woman has a dozen pair of shoes, all roughly the same size and from the same level of designer, I’d feel pretty safe in going for it, IF everything else looked legit.

So err on the side of caution and of course you can always ask your Auntie Plumcake to check out a site before you buy.

Gin and Tonics,

Auntie Plumcake

Being a professional Episcopalian I don’t tend to get many Sundays off.*

On the rare Sundays when I don’t find myself kicking ass for the Lord I usually spend the day ultralounging in various states of undress and doing what I damn well please. Which is different than what I do every day because I’m not wearing pants.

Yesterday I found myself tucking into two of my favorite indulgences, Seneca and campy late 60’s melodrama. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about the wisdom found within Valley of the Dolls, so let’s go straight to the Stoics.

I’m all about the Late Stoa, but for those of you who aren’t currently up on your Ancient Roman philosophers, let me drop a little toga on you all.

Seneca was a stoic playwright and philosopher around the time of Nero.

Like most of the post-Socratics, he was concerned about how to live The Good Life, but unlike Aristotle who was the sort of virtuous dude who could still appreciate a boozy brunch with twelve of his favorite well-oiled houseboys (and how many of us can’t) Seneca was a Stoic, one of those Virtue is its Own Reward guys. So, you know, probably a good idea to listen to him, but probably not the guy you want as your wingman for a drunken weekend in Ibiza.

Anyhoodle, back in the day, our boy wrote a series of letters to a guy named Lucilius, the Roman governor of Sicily, who was generally considered to be a pretty good egg. This is from Epistle XIII, and while I’m sure Big S didn’t mean it specifically as life advice for fat chicks whose mellows are being continually bombarded by harshing agents, it is shockingly applicable.

Do me the favour, when men surround you and try to talk you into believing that you are unhappy, to consider not what you hear but what you yourself feel, and to take counsel with your feelings and question yourself independently, because you know your own affairs better than anyone else does.

Ask: “Is there any reason why these persons should condole with me? Why should they be worried or even fear some infection from me, as if troubles could be transmitted? Is there any evil involved, or is it a matter merely of ill report, rather than an evil?” Put the question voluntarily to yourself: “Am I tormented without sufficient reason, am I morose, and do I convert what is not an evil into what is an evil?” You may retort with the question: “How am I to know whether my sufferings are real or imaginary?”

Here is the rule for such matters: We are tormented either by things present, or by things to come, or by both. As to things present, the decision is easy. Suppose that your person enjoys freedom and health, and that you do not suffer from any external injury. As to what may happen to it in the future, we shall see later on. To-day there is nothing wrong with it. “But,” you say, “something will happen to it.” First of all, consider whether your proofs to future trouble are sure. For it is more often the case that we are mocked by that mocker, rumour, which is wont to settle wars, but much more often settles individuals.

Yes, my dear Lucilius; we agree too quickly with what people say.

We do not put to the test those things which cause our fear; we do not examine into them; we blench and retreat just like soldiers who are forced to abandon their camp because of a dust-cloud raised by stampeding cattle, or are thrown into a panic by the spreading of some unauthenticated rumour. And somehow or other it is the idle report that disturbs us most. For truth has its own definite boundaries, but that which arises from uncertainty is delivered over to guesswork and the irresponsible license of a frightened mind.

That is why no fear is so ruinous and so uncontrollable as panic fear. For other fears are groundless, but this fear is witless.

Word.

*Yes I know it’s poor form to end a sentence with a preposition but I’m not about to say “I don’t get off many Sundays” because a) I’m twelve so that’s funny b) I would receive accusatory texts from concerned parties.