Living Juicy


Sole Prescription Pharmacy Dr. Shannon Bindler, M.A., C.E.C.
The sweetest shoe of them all is the slingback. And when I say sweet, I mean it. The shoe’s ladylike form is romantic and flattering rather than aggressively sexy, which makes it an appropriate choice for various occasions. Slingbacks are characterized by a strap around the back of the ankle in place of the quarters.
A slingback is prescribed to individuals suffering from one or more of the following feelings or experiences: feelings of displeasure, sour relationships with self or others, self-criticism, negative attitude.
Wear may inspire playful, affectionate feelings that bubble outward into the world. Sour attitudes may dissolve into the nothingness from which they came.

“My aim is for ripeness of form. I want to make my forms so full, so juicy, that one could add nothing more to them.”
– Henri Laurens

Life is full of juice. Dead things are dry, withered, and stiff. Even in the driest desert if you slice open a cactus, you’ll discover the succulent life force hidden inside. Why is it that we’ve been taught to fear the juiciness of life? That living a luscious life is somehow sinful or wrong?

Being juicy is about being supple and alive. On a physical level dryness is often associated with disease. Dryness creates inflammation, which is the root of many health ailments. Many ancient holistic practices, such as Ayurveda, seek to lubricate the body’s inner organs (through ingesting healthy fats) as well as topically through our largest organ, the skin. The basic premise is that a juicy body runs more efficiently than a dry one—basically similar to keeping the fluids full in your car.

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A cherry earring gives a pop of sweetness to the outfit while old school glamour cat-eye shades shield from the elements.

When I think of stepping into a juicier life, it naturally brings up sexuality. Sensual experiences aren’t something we should shy away from; eroticism is a profoundly important aspect of human existence. In many ways it’s impossible to truly connect to the juiciness of life if one is cut off from the pleasures of physical embodiment. A juicy sex life is part of being healthy, expressive, and connected.

A sensual energy can be found in all kinds of physical avenues like being mindful as we eat, enjoying a hot bath, exfoliating our skin, walking barefoot through the grass. Being fully connected to our bodies and the physical world is inherently juicy.

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These glitter vinyl Rockerfeller slingbacks with fruit detailing look good enough to eat. The Prom Date clear lucite purse from Miss L-Fire highlights all of your juicy belongings.

Expressing ourselves in an artistic manner is the Vitamix of life. Even the simple act of daydreaming can bring up the juiciness that’s naturally within each of us. Anyone who’s ever been touched by art has connected to the nectar of the soul. I think that’s why The Future Islands lead singer Samuel T. Herring’s recent performance on Letterman blew up the internet. Talk about a ripe expression! That guy is connected to his juiciness, hands down. While I’m no aspiring rock star, I want more of what he’s got. Not just to watch, but as way to live.

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JuicyFruit embellished Jitterbug dress by Trashy Diva lends itself to feelings of retro romance. 

I’m curious, what does living a juicy life mean to you?


*All items (shoes, dress, earrings, bag, and sunglasses) are available at Miss L-Fire, which recently opened a retail store in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles.

**Photography by the ever talented and lovely Margalit Ward. Check out our Get Up Girl Coaching programs.

Friday Sole Candy

All photographs by Hadrien Lacoste

It’s Friday! I don’t know about you, but I’m moving into August summer mode. There are things my mind believes I should worry about, but I’m finding it easier than usual to set them aside and enjoy some family, fun, and of course fashion.

In that spirit, I wanted to share something playful and colorful, something that fits my current mood. And I found just the items.

My friend Hadrien Lacoste from A Private Collection hits all of the important fashion shows throughout the year, and I love checking out his behind-the-scenes photographs and musings. He recently took some fantastic street shots while attending Paris Fashion week and agreed to let me play with and share some of them here.

They conjure feelings of boldness, joy, and power. What do they bring up for you?


Check more street style accessories from Paris Fashion week here

Have a sole-ful weekend!


Life is a Song, So She Sang

Sole Prescription Pharmacy Dr. Shannon Bindler, M.A., C.E.C.
A red closed-­toe pump is prescribed for individuals who want to experience more confidence. A closed-­toe pump is a heel that has a closed toe and back. It tends to have a seamless vamp, with no laces, straps or buckles. Heel may vary in height, and color may range in shade.
A red closed-toe pump is prescribed to individuals suffering from one or more of the following feelings or experiences: insecurity, fear or timidity, not believing in self or ideas, feeling "less than" or inferior, lack of willingness to take risks.
Side effects may include belief in oneself, increased courage, higher self-­esteem, and greater success. Moderate use may lead to job promotions and other unforeseen opportunities. Overuse may lead to dancing unabashedly in public.

Red shoes have always held a magical quality for me. I remember reading Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Red Shoes,” a fairy tale about a girl whose red shoes made her dance to her death. I’m choosing to ignore the whole death part, which was pretty messed up, because to me it was still a magical story. I needed some magic myself a few years ago when I decided to try being a rock-star…

A friend of mine was a successful lawyer until one day he threw in the towel, moved to Los Angeles and became a musician. Within weeks of acquiring a drum set, he was booking gigs at basement parties and the local pub. Fast-­forward five years, and he had become a full­-on working musician with a real band and a record deal. So, when he heard me tipsily singing at a girlfriend’s birthday party and suggested I come into his studio to “lay down some tracks,” I thought it was fate.

The only problem was, I hadn’t sung in years, not to mention I had a year-­old baby at home who woke every few hours… But, where there’s a will, there’s a way. Hey, if Gwen Stefani could lasso Gavin Rossdale into staying home while she went on a world tour, I could convince my husband to play Mr. Mom for one night.

Ten o’clock rolled by, and I started to get tired. I lay on the couch for a few minutes when I heard a strange pit­a­ patter on the window. Wait, was it raining?

When it rains in Los Angeles, people lose all ability to drive. They may have come from the rainy Northwest, or like me, the snowy Northeast, but the seemingly endless days of sunshine somehow deaden one’s motor muscle memory. As soon as the first droplet falls, the freeway morphs into a sea of metal and insurance claims. This was going to be a problem. Leaving the house after eleven pm and facing the 10 freeway in the rain? I had to remind myself that the show must go on!

I dusted off a raincoat and a pair of polka­ dot rubber boots from the back of my closet. I started to close the door when my inner diva told me to grab my red closed-­toe pumps. I wedged the shoes into my diaper bag and set off to meet my destiny, no matter how harrowing the journey.

Walking through the studio door, my confidence deflated. This was a real recording studio, filled with musicians holding, like, instruments—which they could play! I waited in the corner with the other back­up singers and tried to warm up. Damn, these chicks could sing. I inched my way towards the exit. My friend sensed my uncertainty and threw his arm around me, forcing me to stay put. Then I found myself standing in front of the mic. Panic. What the hell was I doing? I had to do something, anything, so I pulled off my rubber Wellies and stepped into the red closed-­toe pumps. I shut my eyes and let my feet move to the beat… The music swept over me, and I started to sing. Like the red shoes in Anderson’s tale, my feet started moving in ways they never had moved before. There I was, dancing and singing with the best of ’em.

The music quieted, and I opened my eyes. I slipped off my pumps and thanked the group. My friend assured me that I was a natural. I smiled and felt a sense of relief and tiredness. I grabbed a chair and collected myself for a few moments before trudging back through the rain. I stared at my pumps in my hand. I’d actually done that. I might have sucked, but I had the confidence to get up in front of group of professionals and sing my heart out. For that one, fantastic night, my red shoes and I were bona fide rock-­stars.

Shoes by Prada