Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes, and where they’ve taken you.
A couple of days ago, my husband and I were discussing the fact that I am just not a shoe nut. I asked him, “Does the fact that I really don’t care about shoes make me less of a woman?” He admitted that he and his wallet are thankful that they’re no big deal to me.
Oh, I’m sure that there are some cute ones in the thrift store that I manage, and that’s the nice thing about running a thrift store, you get first dibs on all the cool stuff. I scored a pair of brand new tennis shoes once because I really needed them, but otherwise, I really don’t give all those shoes a second thought other than to straighten them up after someone ransacks the racks.
My best friend though, Artsy Susie; that girl loves shoes. She goes crazy for shoes. Shoes are the first thing that she notices about a person’s outfit. We totally differ in that respect.
My daughter is a shoe hound as well. As a matter of fact, the whole conversation about my indifference toward shoes stemmed from the fact that she has 3 pairs sitting by the door, a pair in the back of my van, a couple pairs in the shoe basket in the closet, and 2 full bags of them in the trunk of my husband’s car. She doesn’t even wear half of them, but she sees a cute pair and just “has to have them”.
That’s never been me.
My own shoe arsenal consists of a pair of black pumps for special occasions, my black knee high boots, my good tennis shoes, my work tennis shoes, and my flip flops. That’s it. Five pairs. Now that I think about it, even that seems like too many for me. I’ll have to cut back.
I’d have to say that my favorite pair out of the 5 would be my black knee high boots. Those boots have history. They’ve been places. They’ve attended several Sunday church services and potluck dinners. They’ve gone out for anniversary celebrations with my husband. They’ve traveled across the ocean to the Bahamas and back on at least 4 different cruises. They were there when I gathered a group of old co-workers together back home that I hadn’t seen in 10 years. They danced with long lost friends at my 20 year high school reunion. They’ve also seen me 40 pounds less than I am now, so they’ve literally been with me through thick and thin.
My work shoes, though, those are the most important shoes of the bunch. They’re covered in paint and falling apart, but they’re well used and abused because I’ve busted my tail to earn the almighty dollar. They’ve gone with me into some pretty harsh places. They’ve walked on some of the grungiest carpets known to man. They’ve stepped in gum, poop, oil, mud, paint, and countless other nasty things. These shoes are tough. They’re hardcore. They keep me from ruining any of my other pairs. So, in essence, they’ve taken the bullet for the rest more times than I can even count. These shoes deserve a medal for bravery.
Considering what most shoes goes through during any given day, however, maybe they all do.