Hope Greenberg (a former fashion editor at Lucky magazine) and I joined Toby Tucker Peters (Toby Tucker Golf) the other day at her club, The Bridge, for a friendly round of tour-quality golf. What? You don’t believe me? It was amazing. Phenomenal. Unbelievable really. We putted our knickers off. (Swamp land for sale in Florida.)
Some of you asked to see what Equipt women’s golf shoes look like on grass. I have no clue why – they are fabulous regardless of where you wear them – but this was a prefect opportunity to snap some photos of our shoes in action – on grass – on real women. Toby and Hope, both former magazine fashion editors, had distinctive points of view style-wise and it was interesting to see what they conjured up for our sunny round of golf.
And – just in case the fashion review doesn’t do it for you – the on-course banter (do men do this?) had the kind of free range, think chickens, that could boggle tidier minds. Nevermind. We’re women. We multi-task. We share in a non sequitur-ish kind of way. I’ve inserted snippets of the sanitized, expurgated version in italics and all names have been changed to protect the guilty. For fun, a teensy-weensy-itsy bit of embellishment occurred (no specific attribution intended, swear to God), so forgive me H & T. Just couldn’t help myself.
First hole. Toby’s up. She took the jerk back and then, get this, had a baby. Can you believe it? Two loosey goosey practice swings. Huge drive. Two hundred and fifty-plus yards. Hope, who’s up next, has on a black Tail skirt topped off with a striped turquoise and white polo shirt and our classic neutral Wing Tips, and is pulling a driver out of her bag. She did? I thought she finally dumped that loser. I wanted to tattoo a star on her forehead! I loved the free-wheeling approach she took to mixing color and pattern (our mantra) and you can see for yourself how great our shoes look with a skirt. We all thought she was going to, but then he bought her a big, I mean BIG rock, and that was that. We’re talkin’ five carats. Ba-LING.
Yes, the legs helped, but beyond a nod to Hope’s genetic windfall the rest of you should really think about adding skirts to your golf wardrobe, too. I have. There is nothing cooler than an unexpected breeze up the southwest passage of a cute skirt or dress when the humidity’s topping 80%.
I’m up. Drive fades. But wait, stays on the fairway. S-weet. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Jump in cart. Drive to ball. Confer with SkyCaddie. Did you hear that Rachel moved to Arkansas? Skirts. Golf. Very practical. Very sporty. GET OUT! Arkansas? What would make her do a thing like that?! (New Yorkers are so provincial.) Five wood. Crack. The suits found out she was having a thing with her boss, so everyone thought it was time for one of them to move on. Three wood. In the weeds. It was the old esprit de corps thing. She got the nod.
Toby was wearing my favorite pair of black eyelet trousers from her Toby Tucker Golf collection, so reminiscent of Katherine Hepburn, topped off with a crisp white polo (also from her collection) and our classic neutral Wing Tip shoes with kilties. Typical. Seven iron. Green in regulation. Why the blank didn’t she just put a bullet to her head? There are alligators down there. (Are there really?) She forgot the matching golf gloves but was utterly chic and divine nonetheless. Honey, the ratio of men to women is four to one. Do the math. I know what you’re thinking. All this chatter had to be ripping our games to shreds. It didn’t. Yeah, but doesn’t everyone carry a shotgun down there? (So New York.) Toby’s drive was cooking – over 250 yards when she detoxed the fade with a heart-felt verse of SFD, the U-Penn golf team mantra –
and Hope did not hit a wayward shot to my recollection all day long. You need them to kill the alligators. (Ha Ha.) What is SFD? My chipping was boggling the mind occasionally. Nice 60º flop shot onto the green. Two feet from the hole. Holy blank. Toby sinks a six-footer. SFD? Slow the blank down. Oh. Weddings are so stressful. Considering the situation, Tuscany sounds like the ticket. Chip. Ten feet past the hole. May as well be Siberia. They could rent a villa and invite a few close friends – skip the whole family drama thing. Throw a party when they get back. I keep telling you that there’s no reason that style and performance have to be mutually exclusive. One putt. Twelve feet. Holy blinking blank.
Did you ever get a chance to read my last blog post ‘Put Down The Ducky’? It’ll crack you up. Great music. You won’t be able to sit still. I wore a favorite pair of pistachio green cargo pants and a turquoise polo shirt that looked quite snappy with one of our new (not yet seen) b-ball caps made of variegated straw. Yeah. That was so funny. OMG girl. These shoes are crazy comfortable. So light……like I don’t even have them on. I wore the usual left and right gloves to keep my hands from frying (our Hot Tropics) and a matching pair of Spectator Summer bright shoes that I love so much. Darn, but they go with everything in my closet. I know. That was the plan. Taking care of business on the golf course. How we roll.