SPRING'S SHOE PORN-A-PALOOZA!

It may be April Fool's, but shoes are super serious business. (They are in my book.) When names like Louboutin, Choo, and Blahnik are being bantered about, there's no time for jokes. Shoes can make or break first impressions, relationships, even nations ... remember Imelda Marcos? Exactly.

Almost 2,000 pairs to her name ... 

currently housed in the Imelda Marcos shoe museum.

Even though some parts of the country still haven't thawed, Spring 2015's in full swing. From funky flats, flatforms (flat platforms), leggy lace-ups, and sexy strappery to crazy colors, cage-y gladiators, mod mules, and a nod to western, it's a foot fetishist's paradise. Whew.

Fashionistas fantasize about cavernous walk-ins just for their precious Pradas and Puccis, while men fantasize about watching them walk across the room bare-ass naked in sky-high Brian Atwoods. Doused in candlelight ... champagne chilling ... the sensual strains of Marvin Gaye setting the mood. Baby, it's the stuff pin-up dreams (and, um, hardcore shoe porn) are made of. 

Here's a rundown of Spring's hottest heels this side of Saks. (And don't forget to schedule time for pedicures as you'll want to rock your socks off. Literally. No socks.) May your credit card run amok as much as your dizzying senses when you catch a whiff o' these beauties. Not sure about you, but I love the smell of lamb leather in the morning. 

To quote Marilyn Monroe, "Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world." Get ready for battle, mein liebchens, this season's all about total badassery. And now, some must-have picks that'll make even the chicest hooves howl with sheer shoe-tastic glee.

Gucci'll put some spring in y'er step with these hella hot heels.

Gucci Take Two:

Couldn't decide ... so I bought them both. 

Chanel's flat-abulous take is pure glam.

Kicking some serious ass in Rodarte. 

Donna Summer would toe wrestle you for these Versace-chi 

treasures that harken to the days of Studio 54.

Who wouldn't want to live in a state of total Tom Ford-gasm?

T-strap-tazzary at its best ... sex on heels by Guy Laroche.

All laced up and ready to show ... bitchin' in Balmain. 

Pucci's western-inspired boots will have every cowboy

within a 50-mile radius watchin' y'er two-step.

They defy rhyme and reason, but I'm always

mad for McQueen.

Ground control to Major Som ...

Peter Som's flats are out of this world.

Prada perfection. Mules never looked so good.

More Versace, more mules. More is better.

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LUCK O' THE GEISHA!

Kiss me I'm ... having grown up in New York City, home of St. Patrick's Cathedral, this o'geishanista knows firsthand about celebrating St. Patty's Day on a grand scale. (Did I mention McSorley's Ale House?) From the wee hours of the morn' till the wee hours of the next morn', every man, woman, and pub in town lets loose in full-blown party mode -- and it has nothing to do with strangers sucking face or being Irish at all. 

Who doesn't love men rockin' kilts?

Some pretty kick-ass parades kick off the libation-loving festivities, then hords spend the day (or weekend, in this year's case) wearing, eating, an' drinking green -- as in beer, bagels, eggs, ham, shamrock shakes, cocktails, corned beef, you name it. Chug a few mugs of the magical brew and it's like a mini Mardi Gras ... minus the booby beads and King Cake. Talk about "Erin Go Bragh-less." It's literally a day of toasting till you're toasted. 

Back in the old country it's all about the Guinness, but my personal fave has to be the emeralds -- rings, earrings, necklaces, you name it. Isn't that the reason they call it the "Emerald Isle"? Surprise me with Harry O'Winston and you'll be the lucky little leprechaun kissing my blarney stone. Think magically delicious. (FACT: I've been called that. Throw in matching Louboutins and I'll prove it. Oh yeah.)

HINT: this emerald-cut emerald will rock my world. (And yours.)

BTW, here's a little-known tidbit: St. Patrick was actually born in Scotland! Didn't see that coming, did you? He arrived in Ireland after being kidnapped by slave traders, and eventually brought Christianity to the Land of Saints and Scholars. The first Irish immigrants, selfless souls that they are, eventually brought the party here to celebrate their luck. Now who are the lucky ones? Exactly. I'm dancing a jig as we speak.

Speaking of jig (or gig in this case), one of my ever-so-lovely GEISHA-MANIA! gal pals is infamous for his leprechaun act in films, television commercials, and video games. In fact, he was looking devilishly dapper decked out in a green plaid suit, top hat, spats, cane, ginger mutton chops, and a huge handlebar mustache when we first met at a party two years ago. (He kind of freaked me out.) Little did either of us know he'd be donning a kimono and Spanx to join my silly, sexy sideshow. It really does pay to be Irish ... or just play one on TV.

Who's a pretty Irish lad turned lassie?

Enough drivel, let's move on to the fun stuff. It's high time to start thinkin' 'bout drinkin' ... and this is certainly the day to do it. Of all the specialty cocktails (one can never ingest enough food coloring), Green Margaritas are me beverage of choice. Any drink with its own national holiday sends me flying over the rainbow, but there are some delish St. Paddy's Day drink recipes that'll surely get your Irish up. 

This TIPSY LEPRECHAUN looks divine!

Searching for that perfect pot of gold? Wish upon a four-leaf clover, download the Uber app (don't drink and drive), and go paint the town green. Here are some places in L.A. to find Irish eats and throw down a few Dublin Donkeys ... cheers! xo

Molly Malone's Irish Pub
575 S. Fairfax Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90036
(323) 935-1577

Tam o' Shanter
2980 Los Feliz Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90039
(323) 664-0228

Tom Bergin's Tavern
840 S. Fairfax Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90036
(323) 936-7151

Rock and Reilly's Irish Pub
8911 Sunset Boulevard
West Hollywood, CA 90069
(310) 360-1400

Ladyface Alehouse & Brasserie
29281 Agoura Road
Agoura Hills, CA 91301
(818) 477-4566

Casey's Irish Pub
613 S. Grand Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90017
(213) 629-2353

FOOT FETISH ... MOI?!

Since it's my beloved "TGI Foot Fetish Friday," I have a filthy little secret to confess. (I'm really a pasty white girl and not Asian at all? Why screw with your bewilderment? It's waaay too much fun.)

Here goes. I'm head over heels over ... heels. Like kryptonite. Yes, you heard correctly and it's totally true — shoes are my crack, smack, and whack all in one. (Is whack even slang for a drug? No matter, falling in love with a new Italian designer is like someone whacking me upside the head. Same thing.) Talk about a contact high. The second those puppies hit my puppies, a euphoria rushes over my body like none other. Move over Mary Jane, there's a new Mary Jane in town.

Wait, there's more. Hard as it is for me to divulge, I actually, hear me out, quiver at the mere sight of come-f'ck-me black patent ... and don't even get me started on kid suede. Two words: multiple glam-gasms. (For days). Oh my. So it makes perfect sense why I'm totally hooked on men hooked on my feet — especially when clad in strappy little numbers that reveal a sufficiently sexy amount of toe cleavage. Trust me love muffins, they're ALL into my feet. (And my rockstar pedicure.) Ancient Chinese secret or TMI from pasty white? Nope, just merely stating the facts. Whoever invented the term "shoe porn" was the Einstein of what really renders a woman powerless. Is there a Nobel Prize for that kind of brilliance? ('Cuz he/she earned it. In spades. Make that Kate Spades.)

This delicious level of dependence can't be rehabilitated through hypnosis, shock treatment (OMFG, they don't have my size!), or even the most rigorous 12-step program. Imagine standing before a group of poor souls struggling to banish their demons and admitting my insatiable desire for D'Orsay? Thanks but no thanks. Am I worried about spiraling into the depths of overdose-dom? Hell to the no. You can keep your clean living, bitches. As long as I'm sporting the latest Louboutins, I'll be the happiest (and most fashion-forward) junkie to ever buckle up a T-strap. Just watch me.

Since I was a just wee geishanista back in the Bronx, every pump, platform, boot, shootie, flat, flip-flop, slingback, stiletto, wedge or Wellie has held me spellbound. (Even though I despise rain, we must look smashing in it.) My aunties' closets were the absolute Holy Grail — all filled with fabulous shoe collections just waiting for my child-sized feet to explore. I'd be transfixed for hours, parading around in ankle straps, kitten heels, and a motherload of mules. It was endless. Dinner came and went and I never knew. Ferragamos were my food of choice.

In fact, I've been known to lay down a nice chunk o' change on a plethora of peep toes all in one sitting rather than go grocery shopping. (The sales peeps know me by name ... how sweet is that?) I mean, what better ambrosia than a bejeweled Badgley Mischka? What tortellini's more tantalizing than a super-sized serving of Stella McCartney thigh highs? Bring it on. So don't hate me 'cuz I'm skinny ... just blame my love for leather.

During pre-production for GEISHA-MANIA, I was seriously out of control — rows of Roberto Cavallis called my name. Stacks of Giuseppe Zanotti boxes started piling up. At one point there were 30 pairs of shoes — just for a damn three-minute video (not counting my own massive collection, of course). I'd hit rock bottom and my poor stylist was forced to stage an intervention. She failed. I kept buying. It was absolutely glorious.

Problem is, after the final cut was finished, you can't even see the shoes! My darling babies were pretty much pushed clear out of frame and banished into oblivion. I say conspiracy, but director Luciano Fontana claims artistic integrity. I'm sure I'm right, but you know how Sicilians get. I'll give him this round, cause there's always GEISHANISTA GO-GO, my upcoming music video. Wait till you see the kooky kaleidoscope of bling, fashion, fun, and wacky rap. And all-important shoes. So, Mr. Director, we shall see who wins this next battle ... you or the shoes? My money's on the Manolos ... they totally kick ass. xo

See what I mean?

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