In Search of: The Perfect Shoe

Yes, I'm a shoe girl. It's my most girly trait, I suppose. I have yet to outgrow a single pair since I had my first kid. I recently went thru the painful task of cleaning out my closet. I was brutal. I sort thru my clothes twice a year, as the seasons - well, IF, the seasons change. If I haven't been wearing it, I generally toss it, unless it's dressy. Or really really cute.

But the shoes. I never get rid of the shoes. I might NEED them someday. I think I can safely say that I have mourned the loss of many, many shoes. There were the satin sandals with the ankle straps. I think I actually threw up on them after a teenage misadventure. The Dr. Scholl's - did you know it is possible to stand on your toes in your Dr. Scholl's? Kids, don't try this at home. Platform wedges. Clownishly loud suede slip-ons. The workboots I wore planting trees (well, actually cutting down and burning them in uneco-friendly piles) with the BCTV. The brown quasi-roman sandals with the broken sole. The burgundy stiletto sandals I wore to my very last ever piano recital. I can't remember a chord, but I remember those shoes. The golden brown woven-leather clogs. So many good friends consigned to the Big Trashcan in the sky. But the time had come. No Imelda, I.

So goodbye snakeskin mules. So long, fuzzy clogs. Adios, beloved square-toed cowboy boots. I saved the dressy stuff, of course. The black pumps, the navy pumps - I've got weddings and funerals covered as long as I don't have to actually walk in them. I've forgotten how. If I ever knew! I seem to recall the sound of clomping, but I've tried to block it out. I could not part with my wellies, even though I'm afraid spiders might live in them now. I kept the espadrilles just because they are purple. The tan loafers likewise got a pass. They are preppy as hell, but the silver buckle is a fabulous and unexpected detail. Sneakers were kept. They pass thru life stages: exercise shoe, casual shoe, carwashing shoe. I kept the white slippers with the tiny little rose pattern that I took to the hospital when my first daughter was born. I bought her a white linen dress with matching roses. Our first (and last) Mother/Daughter outfit. I kept the brown platform sandals (with a merciful wide platform!) that make me feel like a Funkified Diva. Out went the Barbie Shoes, the fuzzy blue slippers with the strange rhinestone trim, the fantastically cute but stupidly heavy thongs from Old Navy. In stayed the ratty Keds I run to the mailbox in - they are easy on/easy off and absolutely machine washable. In the end, I could see the carpet at the bottom of the closet, spaces in the cabinet, room on the shelf.

Rack Room, here I come.