The Atomic Housewife

Everything you never wanted to know about the inner-workings of my little mind. I'm no longer a housewife, but, hey, I like the name.

Friday, June 10, 2011

To All the Shoes I've Loved Before

Lately I've noticed that I'm often haunted by ghosts of shoes past. As I clomped across campus in my new platforms, I grew wistful for my old Esprit nude leather flats. I loved those sandals, even the way the ankle strap wrapped around my thick ankles. I found them at Macy's and was so delighted to find the exact sandals I had imagined in my mind. Sadly, I spilled fix all over them in my photography class, so they had to leave me before their time.
I started collecting shoes (it's a collection, not an obsession) when I was in the 5th grade. My mom bought me a pair of white Converse before Converse came in actual colors (this was the late 70's), and we decided to dye them Fuchsia Pink. Yes, the kids followed me all week whistling the Pink Panther theme, but I didn't care. I had on my hot pink Chucks and the world was my oyster. Years later, when they were the hot thing, I felt the need to remind my friends that I was the first. I had a glorious shoe wardrobe by the 6th grade, with lots of different styles that none of my friends wore. I had nerdy-chic buckle loafers with a pointy toe, cowboy boots, and my beloved pigskin leather Bare Trap wedge sandals. By the time I was in high school, it was time to do my first shoe clean out of all the styles and sizes outgrown. My mom and I counted 40 pairs that I was getting rid of, and I still had a closet full of remaining choices. I said a heartfelt goodbye to each pair.
As I got older, and my feet settled into a perfect size 6 1/2, and I no longer had to say goodbye to shoes just because of the fit. I can remember most of my shoes and our adventures in much greater detail than any of my relationships with men. The black flats with the studded toe that I wore until they got a hole in front, the 4 inch espadrille wedges that I insisted on wearing while pregnant with my first child, that caused me to twist my ankle so badly that I needed crutches. Like relationships, it was all sunshine and roses until things got too comfortable. Suddenly, a new pinch here, an irritating rub there, caused me to end things abruptly. I wasn't going to wait around to see if things could improve with time, if the elements would work the odd irritants out naturally. If they did me wrong, there were no second-chances, they were ruthlessly thrown away. The memories will always be vivid for me, of the good times we shared, and how limited they can be.



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12:09 PM  

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