There Was a Young Woman Who Lived With Her Shoes

I put some things on the list that weren’t necessarily “want” but “need” to dos. I moved out of my old apartment that I had lived in for nearly five years and put on the list, “pack the apartment.” In packing, I discovered that my shoes held secrets and memories of my past that no other inanimate object could…

I happened upon a few pair of shoes that were ludicrous. I’m sure at the time of purchase, I thought they were the hottest little numbers to ever grace a shoe rack. I found a pair of patent leopard print pumps, a pair of giant snakeskin with 1-inch gold platforms and 5-inch gold heels and a pair of 6-inch black scaled wedges with gold detailing; my animal shoes! Not a single one was bought at full-price. Not a single one has been worn more than a handful of times. And not a single pair will ever be thrown away. The real value of these shoes is found in their silliness. The sheer gaud and audacity that it takes one to slip her little puppies into shoes like these is unmatchable. Imagine Superman without red underwear outside of his blue tights. Imagine the Hulk with his shirt ON. Imagine Mr. Fantastic in a suit that doesn’t stretch. This is a girl without incredible shoes; merely mortal. The snakeskin with gold bottoms are my invincible Jersey Girl shoes. They were purchased on sale at a time in my life when I wasn’t feeling very powerful but by golly, when she put on those pumps if she wasn’t a whole new woman. They’re ridiculous, they’re bold, they’re somewhat atrocious, but they’re golden (pun intended). To rid myself of these shoes would be forfeiting the fun of life and letting go of the courage that one must embrace to feel okay with oneself when all seems sad and lost.

I picked up a pair of Steve Madden peep toes, satin white with assorted red, green, yellow and grey polka dots, a ½ inch red platform and thin red heel. I pondered the last time I’d donned them. It couldn’t have been within the last two years. I remembered when and where and why I bought them. It was the summer of 2007 for my twenty-second birthday. I had found an adorable yellow dress and these little gems were half price. I remember that night and that summer like they were yesterday. I had the best group of girlfriends that a freshly graduated college girl could have. We were carefree, frivolous and fun. And so were my new pumps. To celebrate my birthday we went out on the lake, got sun burned, then went out to the club and danced all night. The memory of feeling young and vibrant and beautiful still warms my heart – almost as much as the summer sun on Lake Loudon kissing our skin that day. The odds that I, in my late twenties, will ever slip my feet back into polka dotted pumps again – except to walk down memory lane or dress up as Wonder Woman– are slim, but to rid myself of those shoes would be to throw away a beautiful memory of a glorious time in my life.
Sometimes the sale is the memento. Knowing that I’m more savvy than anyone else who owns these shoes and I’m not a sucker who paid full price for them gives them more value than any dollar amount ever could. I found a pair of brown slouch boots, circa 1982 about five years ago at the Goodwill on Chapman Highway for four dollars. They have earned their value at least ten fold. I found them pre-1980’s/90’s comeback but knew they were gems. They’ve withstood the test of time.

Some shoes don’t make it 20 years, though. Some just make it 200 miles. My running shoes are constantly changing. I’m working with really attractive and comfortable red and blue Asics right now. They’re the shoes I ran my half in and I’ll keep them for that memory, but most running shoes get tossed after a few months because they’ve been worn down. Even though I know they’ll be in the trash a few months after I purchase them, I still establish a relationship with these shoes. They take me places, literally. They achieve goals and set personal records with me. They’re a part of me. Without my running shoes; Asics, Mizuno, Nike, Brooks or some other brand, I couldn’t be a runner. These shoes complete me, quite literally – not Jerry McGuire style, actually complete me. Without them, I’d be Fred Flintstone. I’d be lost. I couldn’t achieve all I set out do to on my feet.

Shoes make me who I am. They empower me, they hold memories, they accomplish goals with me. They are a piece of me that no person, place or thing could ever match. Sure, I run with friends. I go dancing with friends. But my shoes make the experience that much more to me. My shoes? My shoes make me… me! Moving out of my old place was tough, but it was wonderful because I got to remember the past and the history and the memories that make me who I am.