If the White Shoe Fits, Wear It, Pasadena -- I’ve Seen Your Feet
In case you missed it, newspapers are taking greater pains than ever to correct mistakes. So I took it seriously when a reader said I was off base in suggesting Pasadenans have a thing for white shoes.
The column was about Carson taking the lead over Pasadena in the competition for a new National Football League franchise. Paul Little, a Pasadena city councilman, said he didn’t mind my tweaking city officials for their sputtering bid. But the shoe comment was over the line.
“You can take Pasadena to task for putting on airs ... but please don’t attack our fashion sense,” Little said. “I invite you to enjoy some of Pasadena’s restaurants, shops, clubs and even our Rose Bowl. I challenge you to find a pair of white shoes anywhere.”
I like a challenge, and when I called, Little said he’d gladly be my escort. We met at his house Tuesday morning, and set out on a White Shoe Safari, as he called it.
“I’m giving you a break,” I told him. Had I visited Pasadena for Sunday brunch, I might have been the only man in town not wearing white shoes. But I was confident enough to run the safari on a weekday morning.
We struck out at first, but I was sure we’d bag a trophy when we headed to the Reyn Coffee Shop.
No dice. One guy wore white sneakers, but those don’t count.
Over breakfast, the subject shifted from white shoes to football. I told Little I like not having a pro team anywhere in Greater Los Angeles, because I like what it says to the NFL, the TV networks and the rest of the country:
Who needs it?
In L.A., we’re too sophisticated to live vicariously through a bunch of millionaire jocks. Except, of course, when the Lakers are winning, and every ding-dong for 60 miles flies flags from car windows.
If we did have an NFL franchise, Pasadena would be the worst place for it. Who needs thousands of beer-drinking hooligans overwhelming a quaint little burg when I might be trying to enjoy a quiet Sunday afternoon there?
That’s right, I spend some time in Pasadena. Silver Lake isn’t far away, and when I can’t bear to see another still-groovy middle-aged pretender in high-tops and which-way hair, I put on chinos and escape to Glendale or Pasadena for detox.
Little said he’s just trying to save the Rose Bowl. If UCLA takes a hike, and there’s no pro team, the stadium might be history. So he’s trying to craft a deal in which the NFL and the new franchise put up all the cash, and Pasadena takes no financial risks but makes a profit.
In polite terms, I told Little he’s dreaming. Better to shake down some Hollywood heavyweights and turn the Rose Bowl into the world’s largest outdoor movie theater. I’d pay to watch film classics under the stars.
Little took my idea under advisement, and we headed back out on safari. We swung by Vroman’s Books, where I was certain we’d score. Wrong again.
Outside, we saw an old gent white-shoeing down Colorado and gave chase. Sneakers, again. We struck out in Target too, and I began worrying about the most embarrassing correction of my career.
“A Steve Lopez column incorrectly reported that Pasadenans wear white shoes. In fact, they wear brown and black, particularly in penny loafers. Saddle oxford shoes are quite popular too, in oatmeal and dark blue, but no one who is still breathing in Pasadena wears white shoes.”
Thank heaven for the Pasadena senior center. In the billiards room, George Palumbo was watching the action in natty threads -- and white shoes.
“They’re sporty,” Palumbo said.
I found another pair of white shoes in the cafeteria and Little conceded defeat. But he perked up when I spoke to an employee named Ginger Miller.
White shoes are for Palm Springs, Miller said. Not Pasadena.
Has her husband ever brought home a pair? I asked.
“Absolutely not,” she said.
And what if he did?
“I’d kill him.”
I had no idea I’d hit on such a sensitive subject for Pasadenans. Next, Little and I went to Rangoni Firenze Shoes on Lake Street, not far from J. Lo’s new restaurant. I asked salesman Jerry Cluck -- “just like a chicken,” he said -- if he had anything in white.
“You want tournament shoes,” he said, as in Tournament of Roses.
I rest my case. But the thing was, Cluck didn’t think twice about my request. Did I look like a guy who’d actually buy white shoes?
Apparently so, because he brought out a $92.50 pair of white suede beauties, by Bass, and said they sell like ice cream just before the Rose Parade.
I put them on and Cluck said they looked sharp. To tell you the truth, they didn’t feel bad.
The sale of white shoes has slowed over the years, Cluck said. But they’re still considered stylish in some quarters. Especially the ones he brought out next -- the $235 Allen Edmonds version. Cluck called them “Pat Boone” style and said:
“Try these on and surprise your feet.”
It wasn’t just my feet that were surprised.
I wanted to stand on a float and sing “Love Letters in the Sand.”
I wanted to run down to J. Lo’s place and tell her S. Lo was in town.
And then I’d go back to trendy Silver Lake, where I know what the first question on the street would be.
“Hey, where’d you get those shoes?”
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Reach Steve Lopez at steve.lopez@latimes.com.
