So it was in junior high, early 1960s, that I started to feel womanly and HAD to have my first pair of "high" heels (which were actually about 1/2" high, and I'm not kidding, and maybe only 1/4" at that). Alas, my feet were only a size 3, which is roughly the size of a toddler's (well, a big toddler). My mother had no patience for the task, so my friend Barbara's mother dragged Barb and I all over Los Angeles in search of pink "high" heels in a size 3. This mission was accomplished (after a few really gruelling days) only because I was at the feet of The Master: Barbara's mother always matched her nail colour to her purse colour to her shoe colour. Thank you, Marsha Dubin, from the very bottom of my sole.

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