My mother is absolutely in love with the movie "The Red Shoes." She watches it almost every day. Never tires of Moira Shearer,  Lermontov, the hypnotic dancing, and grand language. It is starting to pull me into its spell too. This summer I came across this pair of shoes I had bought somewhere along the way, and put aside. I thought they were goofy, too red, the heels a little gauche.

Well, I started wearing them, not sure why, and they're super comfortable. Even walking in Paris....and I get more compliments on them....dare I say I don't want to take them off?

There's something funny going on. When I was a nanny, we watched the Wizard of Oz almost every day. My 4 and 6 year old charges and I were obsessed with the ruby slippers. "There's no place like home" was part of our vernacular, and even made it into my song "So Much Mine."

My mother doesn't remember my being a dancer from the age of six. And she's always surprised that I am a redhead. But I wonder sometimes if this strange current of the red shoes has guided me somehow through her imagination!

Lermontov: "Why do you want to dance?"

Vicky: "Why do you want to live?"

I am going to Paris again. I'll sing with Nolwenn Leroy at her big concert at L'Olympia on Monday night. Maybe I'll wear the red shoes.