If the Shoe Fits...

I love shoes.  To those who know me even the slightest bit, this doesn’t come as any surprise.  To those who know me very well, I think they’ll consider my declaration of love to be a bit of an understatement.

Legend has it that my adoration of fine footwear was born in Neiman Marcus when I was three years old.  The old story goes that my mother and I were strolling leisurely through the store when I stopped in my tracks in front of a display of little girl’s red patent Mary Janes.  I pointed at them and told my mother quite emphatically that I wanted those shoes.  When she told me that I couldn’t have them, this normally mild-mannered child turned into a maniacal temper tantrum thrower. 

While I do not know if that’s exactly when my shoe fetish came to be, I do know that, to this day, I have a special affection for red patent shoes.  Over the years, my collection has never failed to include at least one pair.

Unfortunately, even though I try to be neat and organized, my shoes sometimes overrun our closet and annoy my husband.  For some reason, he doesn’t like tripping over my pumps when he’s trying to get ready in the morning.  So last year he tried to lay down the law with me.  He pulled out a pair of shoes that I’ve had since college and told me that, until I wore them out, I could not buy another pair.  I just looked at him in all of his proud take-a-stand glory and said, “Okay.”  He looked surprisingly shocked at my acquiescence and seemed very satisfied with himself.

Here’s the problem.  He’s married to an attorney.  After making his stern admonition that I was not to buy any other shoes until I wore out the ones he showed me, I simply put them on and walked out the front door.  I went out to the mailbox, came back in the house, took off the shoes, put them back in the closet, and announced I would now be buying another pair very soon.  He looked confused.  Then he realized he had been “lawyered.”   While he intended his statement to mean that I had to wear the shoes until the soles had worn thin, I interpreted his statement to mean that I simply had to go somewhere in them and then I would be free to add to my collection. 

I can’t imagine why he so cruelly targeted this particular pair of shoes to be banished from my collection.  They originally served at the foundation for my “Delight” Halloween costume in college and they have since graced the dance floor on more than one 80’s night.  Who knows, maybe they’ll even be back in mainstream style sometime in the near future.  This Spring’s fashion is all about color, right?!  I wouldn’t want to risk disposing of them only to find out my vintage shoes are the hottest new trend, would I?

Thankfully this attempted coup against my shoe collection was short-lived.  My husband decided to leave well enough alone and to suffer for fashion in silence... and he's accepted that he may have married an Imelda Marcos in the making.   As long as I don't negatively impact our plans to retire someday, I think he will reluctantly support this vice of mine.  His main goal is to not be the old man who lived in a shoe.

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