Ok, first I thought, what shoes will I wear?!  I mean, come on…the book is called Changing Shoes, right?  As long as you can change your shoes, you can change your life.  My catalogue of pumps, platforms, and peep-toes began to race through my mind.  And then I thought, what car will I drive?  I can’t show up in that little red thing of mine and ask her to fold herself up and get in, it’s Tina Sloan.  And what if she has “people”?  Ok, I’ll take the SUV…not great for maneuvering downtown streets, but greater seating capacity and more comfort.

As luck would have it, Tina arrives to the first snow storm of the year, a twelve inch blanket of nature’s frozen beauty.  Yeah, it’s beautiful, but it sure puts a crimp in the shoe choice.  Out are the black, suede peep-toe, 4-in heels…in are the motorcycle styled Uggs.  Ugh!  Luckily, I have read Tina’s book and I followed her advice.  Being confronted with some act of an inconvenient god, I just changed my shoes.  Sure the ugly Australian brogans are the appropriate pick for an unplowed parking lot, but knee high, new-copper-penny-colored, crocodile-embossed, boots are more applicable to Driving Miss Tina.  I simply made the modification in the car.

I arrive early to the hotel, as any daughter of a Junior Leaguer and graduate of the Miss Pittypat Southern school of manners would.  Yes, you can take the girl out of the South, but you never quite take the Southern out of the girl.  I circled the block a couple of times, and giving further credence to the idiom, third times a charm, standing on the sidewalk outside the historic hotel is a strikingly beautiful blond woman dressed in winter white, a pale, lime green jacket, a cream-colored scarf with just the hint of sparkle, and off-white ballet flats…yes, Tina, I noticed.  With a wave of acknowledgement, and a graceful climb into the steroidal kin of the family station wagon, our journey begins.  Cue the Hans Zimmer soundtrack, I’m driving Miss Tina.

It’s rush hour, so I avoid the freeways and cut a determined transversal through the heart of the city by way of the financial district and Capital Hill, honking in solidarity to the #OccupyDenver sidewalk encampment and the 99%ers.  Most assuredly, I am an excellent driver, and display my tour guide skills Liberally.

Let me just say at this point in the conversation, Tina Sloan is an absolute pleasure, and it gets better from here.  She is kind, funny, gracious, giving…and patient.  Southerners should come with a warning label, “CAUTION: If you ask a storyteller a question, you will get an answer…a long one.”  As a result the forty-five minutes of drive time into the suburbs were filled with personal stories of parents, family, significant others, home towns, education, Twitter, and politics…just like new old friends.

Arriving early at the book store, we have plenty of time to grab a bite to eat after checking in.  Now, it must be coupon night in suburbia, because all the places nearby where we could grab a nice bite and a good glass of red (for me) are packed.  When I offered a few more places, or as I nodded to the bright yellow sign above our heads, the unlikelihood of a burger, be still my heart when Tina said she loves burgers.  Fatburger it is!  Inside we walked, ordered two Fatspecials and noshed like girlfriends over greasy protein and Game 6 of the World Series over our heads.  Now, for all you Venice fans out there, I got a bit of scoop on Season 3, but what happens in Fatburger stays in Fatburger.  Plus, though I may relish the fantasy of it, I’m not willing to risk the reality that Crystal Chappell might cut me.

After introducing Tina to my better three-quarters, we dashed through the snow over to the bookstore across the way.  Indie bookstores are usually quite small and intimate, but these are the suburbs, so the combined square feet is comparable in size to that of a WalMart.  Never fear, Tina’s personality fills every square inch as she recites for the crowd, raucous re-tellings of the live soap days of yesterday.

Looking around the room, I am observing who is sitting around me.  The ages range from near 20 to near 70.  They are Tina’s Twitter friends, actual friends, and all friends in between.  They are breast cancer fighters, domestic abuse survivors, and yes, even lesbian survivors.  One young man in a wheelchair announced to Tina that he was very jealous when “Lillian” kissed “Buzz”.  These are the people who were touched every day by the social significance of Guiding Light and the other daytime dramas that have been snuffed out to game shows, weight loss shows, and cooking shows.  These are the people Tina speaks to in her book signings using the example of “Lillian’s” yearly regression to behind the scenes, culminating in a Christmas episode where the character is relegated to a position behind the tree.  After the obligatory wallowing in a bag of M&Ms, Tina announces, “Hey, I’m in the room!  I’m tired of being invisible.”

She changed her shoes that day, letting us all know that we don’t have to walk around in the orthopedic, white nurse shoes life gives us.  We can don pink hiking boots and conquer Mount Kilimanjaro.   We can put down the bag of M&Ms, and put on those Chanel pumps, the ones reserved for relationships and romance.  We can put on our comfortable shoes, #Occupy(anywhere), and stand up for our Constitutional rights.  Or, we can put on those running shoes, and race for the cure.  Don’t like where you are standing?  Change your shoes.

Thank you, Ms Sloan.  Though I may have been the one driving Miss Tina, it was I who was taken on a journey…what a ride.

A few days ago, I had the distinct privilege of sitting down and chatting with the incomparable Tina Sloan, daytime drama legend…and now author.  Tina has chronicled her life as an actress, mother, and daughter in a wonderfully charming, humorous, and poignant memoir entitled Changing Shoes.

Changing Shoes is a primer of sorts for growing old gracefully and meeting aging head on.  Tina utilizes footwear as a metaphor for the different stages of life; when you are ready for a change, it’s simple, just change your shoes.  From the innocence of pink Capezios to the sophistication silhouette of a pair of black Chanel pumps, Changing Shoes takes us on a sentimental journey of youth, career, motherhood, and the decline of aging…our own and our parents.

So, enjoy the conversation with two women who really love shoes…and the changing stories beneath the sole.

Tina Sloan on Twitter

Changing Shoes, the one-woman show, ticket info

Tina Sloan on Season 2 of Venice, the Series

Tina Sloan on Empire

Thanks to Jeryl for our Schmootzcast intro music “Stay Away From You” from her Radio Friendly CD . Check out all of Jeryl’s music on her MySpace page.

I discovered three things from watching the second episode of Venice, the series.  One, Michelle Carter can portray a believable character.  Two, by using the F-bomb, there is a definite, realistic, made-for-cable set up.  And three, Hillary B. Smith’s boobs were not the only thing dramatically over the top in the final scene…not that I am complaining (about the boobs).

The opening scene provides a nice and immediate set up of Michelle Carter’s character as Gina’s assistant.  The relationship between Gina and Michele is professional, yet personal and relaxed.  The scene sets the dynamic quickly providing adequate exposition that Michele is an organized asset to Gina’s work schedule and possibly her personal life.  Carter creates a realistic portrayal of the often unseen wizard working the machine from behind the curtain, someone so many of us couldn’t function without.  I anticipate seeing more from Carter, so mission accomplished.

Gina’s choice of “fuck-tard” in reference to a client builds on the character’s previously established lack of sensitivity.  Gina is emotionally bankrupt, and her mouth is writing checks her conscience can’t cover.  Technically, allowing Chappell’s swearing is establishing the series as a representational cable alternative with daytime actors.  I applaud the production team for rejecting the socially sanitary “jerk” and the like.  I can almost forgive the morning after tank tops…almost…as the beyond PG-13 language is realistic in my world.  I have been known to drop the occasional F-bomb myself.  Ok, I admit it, at times I tend to carpet bomb as an offensive.

Constructively, I have to say the last scene with Hillary B. Smith and Tina Sloan just didn’t work for me.   Unless they are setting up Smith’s Guya character as a grifter (and I sincerely hope so), the desire to be overly quirky both in writing and editing plays as if Guya doesn’t yet exist in Gina’s world.  If Guya is not being played as a confidence woman that preys on the loneliness of wealthy widows, then her overt spirituality is being portrayed more of a carnival sideshow than with the metaphysical homage it deserves.  If Guya is going to be the “tent pole” character for the Brogno kids, it’s difficult to take her seriously unless I know she is “playing” for a mark. Considering the talent of these two veterans of stage and the daytime screen, there has to be a reason for the heavy hand and the broad strokes.  Could the final reveal of the tarot card be the foreshadowing of Tina’s character in season two as hinted on Twitter?  I don’t know.  And could there be a statement in the very last card, the fool?  Perhaps. Frequent readers of my work know I am a huge fan of the use of lightheartedness and comedy, but I wish this wasn’t the first time Aunt Guya was introduced.

I want to be emotionally vested in these characters.  I want to glimpse their personalities in reference to the whole and how they relate to the lead character.  Right now it seems I am watching independent vignettes without the benefit of progressive personal harmony.  I agree exposition is necessary, but exposition as it is relative to character association, not just exposition for exposition’s sake.  Just as it was accomplished with Gina’s assistant, Michele, it is important to subtly lead new viewers, not privy to the genesis of this series, to the acknowledgment that Owen is Gina’s brother and that overly eccentric character is Guya, Gina’s maternal aunt.  Their relationships, their interactions, and their combined behavior ramifications keep a viewer wanting more and willing to invest not only time, but money.

As a viewer and potential subscriber, I have honestly and constructively reviewed my Venice experience so far.  It is no state secret that I want this endeavor to succeed; it’s potential in a new genre is overwhelming.  The series is a work in progress, and as with all babies in infancy, can benefit from those not quite so close to the mother.  I made a promise to be impartial and tell it like I see it.   It’s my personal experience that large, rose-colored glasses have been of little benefit to anyone but Elton John. I look forward to seeing the vision hindsight brings.