It was during that curious time I lived in San Francisco that I developed
some habits of questionable taste. Midnight dinners of fried egg sandwiches, non-stop listening to Jefferson Airplane and Joni Mitchell, an affinity for bell bottom jeans, not eating meat [a habit I happily abandoned for almost 12 years]. One habit though, continues to
conjure up a twinge of nostalgia nearly every time I enter a shoe store, and that, I now confess, is my uncontrollable urge to buy footwear.... visions of those sugarplum shoes have never ceased to dance in my head.
Sigh.
To
engage in therapeutic shoe buying when my closet is near to bursting at the seams, may seem like sleeping with the enemy, and
perhaps it is, but I am inclined to believe that this is precisely why
it has proven so addictive. At any rate, I have made peace with it. We both have our shortcomings (my closet and I). Mine in an
warped acute sense of fashion, in the form of earth shoes, tapestry wedges, go go boots, stilettos, platform shoes, and an array of kinky boots, kitten heels, and my first pair of frye boots that I wore until they literally fell off my feet! I could go on, but for
the sake of closet harmony, I won't.
Unwilling to give up my obsession with stilettos and what my mom called my "floozy" shoes, I was doomed to turn in my woman’s liberation membership card and suffer the likes of blisters, corns, bunions... and did I mention back problems? There are mornings I wake up with my back as creaky and cranky as a chain smoking old biddy. I got used to it, accepted it even. I used to squeeze my toes into a fabulous pair of Manolo Blahnik-suede-kitten-heeled-boots (bought at a second hand store, of course), go about my day, only to return in the evening to recover from
this daily exertion of fashion. I became practiced in the art of walking without showing pain and vowed that one day I would wear shoes that actually felt good, not just
looked good. I thought that eventually the glitter would dim and all it promised would fade from my
fantasies.
But the shoe lover in me has never fully given up. The shoe department these days seems
to wax and wane not only by season, but by the day. The sight of Jimmy Choos or Christian‑Louboutin makes me giddy, but, at least in my budget, taking them home requires a second mortgage. My shoes these days rarely pose such a risk. Actually, they are boring...all summer I wore flip-flops, with an occasional appearance by one of their candy-colored cousins, crocs...comfortable, yes! fashionable, not so much...they left me feeling like a nervous intern during a mock disaster.
It would appear I'm getting old...I enjoy a cup of tea, knit non-stop and I'm usually in my pajamas before 9pm. I have heard myself say
things like..."when I was your age", "back in my day", "kids today"... geesh, I'm about two clicks from sitting on my porch swing, with a tumbler of bourbon, predicting the
weather by my bunions and mumbling things like..."yep, feels like there's a
storm a-brewin', better batten down the hatches!"
plus my closet is bored with me. We've
become comfortable and complacent with each other and that's not good
enough if we want to keep our magic alive.
So, I've decided to spice things up a bit...
I mean, we still love each other, but it's not as exciting as it used to
be. My shoes no longer seem hip and
heart-stirring. Mind you, they're still fun,
but it's a very polite kind of fun, (
switch flops) are my new bff and I adore my Uggs to no end]. Now, it's never going to be like it
was in the beginning,
but that doesn't mean we just quit trying, right?
So, I'm making the effort. Spending time in the closet, cleaning, rearranging~we're getting to know each other again.
Naturally, this includes making decisions... which shoes to keep, which ones...hey, lookie here my old "floozy" shoes still fit, ahhh, seems like old times. Hmmm, does it feel like rain to you?
Just go with it...
Sweet Potato, Golden raisin, and Cranberry Strudel
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