The Shoes of My Life

I love shoes.

There are so many wonderful ones out there and so little time to wear them all. While I’ve had my share of pedi-candy in the past and definitely enjoy my share now…by no means do I believe I have ever reached a level of obscenity in my shoe obsession. I personally think I’ve only owned a very modest collection. My hope though, is that I can work it out so I’ll actually be able to have any pair of shoes I want, exactly when I want them, and get to a point where it may be thought that I owned a disgusting amount of just too many pairs of shoes. Though I recognize that if a layman had the opportunity to see all the shoes I’ve owned over my lifetime, he might think I had already reached that point and even think that many of the shoes I’ve had looked a lot alike. At that juncture, I would have to educate him with how each pair had its own unique characteristics and distinct purpose, which made each and every pair necessary to own. How there were ones that I just couldn’t give up and others which had, deservedly, come and gone without much fanfare. But I’d also have to explain how each pair had played a special role in my wardrobe, even if it just completed an outfit for a single night. And I’d have to explain that my life is well suited to welcome many more pairs of shoes into it.

As I sit here though, I can’t help but reminisce a little about all the shoes of my life, the good and the bad, that have crossed my path.

There was that first pair I loved. The Spiderman sneakers with fat, red shoelaces. No one else had a pair like them probably because they weren’t that popular and mostly likely a little ugly. Obviously, my tastes were much less refined than they are today. But I loved them because they were the first ones I could tie all by myself. I thought that was the pair I would always have…until I outgrew them.

There were the fad pairs that were just so popular that everyone seemed to have or have had them, like the plastic Jellies. There was nothing particularly special about them that made me personally attracted to them at first but with how much they had been around, I must’ve figured I might as well try them too…that perhaps I had been missing out on something great. So I convinced myself to get them. Then after having them for a while, I realized that I should’ve trusted my first instinct…that what they offered wasn’t for me, that they just didn’t fit right and that they ended up just making me like everyone else.

There were the pairs that were cute but hurt like hell. They were the ones I had to squeeze into and while they may have looked great…they were also the ones that always made me regret wearing them by the end of the day. But the masochist in me also believed that sometimes that pain was worth it.

There were the pairs that were the great standbys. They were the ones that I pulled out when I didn’t want to deal with the fanfare. They were also the ones I probably stored by just throwing them in the back corner of my closet but they were the ones I could always count on for the lazy day Sundays or the sick day Mondays. I loved the reliability of these pairs and I know I was lucky to have had them.

There were the practical pairs that I got because they were comfortable and supposedly could be worn with anything; ones that would stick with me through thick and thin and would be the only pair I’d ever need. The problem with these though was that I just saw them as boring and lacking flair so that I wanted to wear them with nothing. For me, shoes are not about need…shoes are about want.

Which leads me to the pairs I fall for at first glance. Typically beautiful. Typically impractical. But almost always…so very wonderful. These shoes beckon me from across the room. I am powerless against them. I immediately know with my entirety that I must have them and they must have me. These are the shoes that make me swoon and I do whatever I can to wear them as often as possible. When I absolutely can’t wear them, I just long for the days when I can put them on my feet again. It’s shoes like these that make me forget about all the pairs that have given me blisters, made me fall and that I have outgrown. They are the ones that give me hope that there are many more shoes out there that I will adore whole-heartedly. These are the ones that keep my love affair with shoes alive and kicking.

— Ballyhoo Backcaster