Sole Sister

Granny Smith was the most elegant woman in the world. Well, my world at least. Tall, slender, with a voice like a purr and always with an etched crystal glass in her hand is how I remember my dad's mom. A sleek silver bob, big gold clip-on earrings and a black cardigan was her uniform. I loved hearing that I looked like her; our five-year-old pictures were identical, and after she passed and I grew into a young adult, I turned into a redhead doppelgänger to her graduation photo. And I would inherit her love of Bloody Marys... 

And shoes.

Twice a year she would take me and my sister shopping, and when she recognized a budding love of shoes in me at the age of nine or ten, she told me:

"A shoe-loving woman should have lots of shoes."

And here I am.

I have girl friends whose collections dwarf mine... the era of JustFab and other subscription services that promise to bury you in cheap platforms that will fall apart if worn more than twice a year has transformed how shoe wardrobes work. It's like they know you're going to have too many shoes to wear very often, so they make them more shoddily to match the reduced wear. But my friends having thirty pairs of disposable shoes does not justify my collection of... I wonder how many I have....

Okay, I thought I was being really far-fetched and hyperbolic when I used the number "thirty"... yet I have 25 pairs of shoes. One for every year of my life. That's counting everything I wear on my feet, from flip flops to heels to boots to the muddy Converse I use to kill spiders.

Holy shitkickers!

I thought I was just being cute when I said I was giving up shoe-buying for Lent, but it is becoming clear that I have a problem. I was relieved the other day when my mom said her church was collecting dress shoes for their mission in Haiti: it's easier to part with things when you imagine them on the feet of somebody who will appreciate them instead of rotting on a Goodwill shelf despite their mint condition. Shoes I would have otherwise hoarded suddenly became easy to put in a cardboard box. I even parted with my prom shoes from high school. Yes, I still had them at age 25.b

There are worse vices, really. To buy quality shoes from reputable and socially-conscious brands (for the most part); wear them well; and then give them to somebody else still in excellent condition, somebody who otherwise might have nothing or some pathetic, beat up hand-me-downs that really belonged in the trash instead of a donation bin... Yeah, I could buy fewer or crappier shoes and give that money to charity instead, but who actually allocates all extra money to charity? I budget ten percent of my pre-tax income to charity, with some random other donations here and there and will always pick the brand that gives proceeds to something over the brand that doesn't. If I didn't buy shoes, I'd probably buy clothes and do the same thing I would with shoes.

But I see myself doing better. I am buying fewer but nicer, things that will last a long time, or that are recyclable, or that I know I'll wear all the time. Yeah, I have a pair of wedge sneakers with flowers on them... not everything can be a brown loafer!

Shoes make me happy. Clothes are fun too, but it's easier to fit a foot. I love trying to find the most comfortable of an uncomfortable-looking shoe. I'm obsessed with recyclable plastic shoes: I now have a collection of five pairs! How cheaply can I get a pair of this designer? OH MY GOD A PURPLE AND GREEN BOOT. My friends tell me when they see a shoe that makes them think of me. I am totally okay that whimsical shoes and beer make people think of me.

To me, it means people are associating me with things that make people happy.

This is how I choose to see it. Now when does Easter get here?!

Maybe in the meantime I can bring it down to 20....