Shoes. Oy.
This is a hard one for me. I like shoes. They're nice. They keep my feet warm and safe, and I like cute ones as much as the next girl.
But I'm one of those who can have five pairs of shoes for five years and not feel like I'm lacking. One pair of tennies for the beach with the dogs, one pair of running shoes for running, one pair for work, pretty Danskos for most other occasions, and black heels for going out. Oh, and my Croc slippers for at home. (Don't laugh! They're awful and ugly and the best things ever.)
I guess I just don't get it -- it's right up there with shopping for me. I hate the mall. I don't like to shop. I don't like to spend money on things like shoes when I have serviceable shoes already.
Serviceable. That's the operative word. Oh, how BORING. But my shoes usually have stories. My red Danskos were bought with my first real writing check. The beach tennies I have on right now (that I put on to walk the dogs earlier) were passed on to me from a friend who bought them on a rainy day in Venice -- her feet were wet, and I'd convinced her to pack light, only one pair of shoes. She'd listened to me, and she was miserable, so she bought this blue pair of knock-off Keds with a fake Nike swoosh. At the end of the trip, she didn't like them, and they fit me, so she passed them on. Ten years or so later, I still wear them. They have a stripe of yellow paint where I stepped on a paint roller while painting the bathroom of the first place I owned. They're beat to hell, and I love them.
I guess it comes down to this: I only like shoes with stories. With character. And if you have too many shoes, how can they have personality?
*I do, actually, own more than 5 pairs of shoes. Maybe 10. But I only wear about six regularly. Shameful, I know. Someday, perhaps, I'll expand my horizons. But for now, I'm happy with what I have.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
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4 comments:
So the Pens Fatales picked shoes as a theme. I'm eternally grateful I didn't draw that guest slot!
that is *exactly* how I feel about cars. My current car had a story before it came to live with me. My last car, I worked hard to give it a history, for many years.
Cars, shoes...both just a means to get around in...
Shoes, cars...conflict and passion. If either of the latter are missing, it's harder to write about any topic.
Rachael, I love the history of your beach shoes. That's so you. Made me smile.
I am a weird foot size, so when I get a shoe that isn't ugly and doesn't hurt, I cling to it with a death-grip.
That shoe-shopping thing though, it goes deep. We were in Athens on a Sunday, and ladies were clustered around the shoe shop like it was a museum. I guess it's one of those genes you either have or you don't ;)
Mysti
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