STEP ON UP

I love shoes.

Of all the things that I could buy in this world, it always comes back to shoes. I don’t think it’s an obsession really; but, somehow, I seem to gravitate towards shoe stores no matter where I am.

They can be made from the finest leather, online or available at Bloomingdale’s or knock offs from Payless, it doesn't matter. The heel can be flat, or quarter inch, or hooker length, as my daughter calls them. It never matters.

Suede loafers at J.C. Penny for Autumn, wood sandals by Candies in the Summer, leather sling backs by Highlights for the Spring. Then there are the special occasions, such as weddings or funerals that require studs or velvet. Whenever a new dress was bought it just didn't seem right to wear "old" shoes with them.

My relationship with shoes began when I was thirteen years old. For many years previous my mother had taken my sisters and I to purchase white patent leather shoes to go with a new Easter Outfit. It was the only time I got new shoes, the other being School Shopping Day, where I would be the lucky recipient of Hush Puppies when they WEREN'T cool to go along with my plaid jumpers. One time I snuck my tap shoes into my gym bag because I wanted to wear heels. I must have been a sight click clacking down the street. But I felt great.

That year was different, however. It was as if a light had been turned on behind my eyes, all these beautiful objects of fashion sprung to life before me! I couldn't believe the difference between the different manufacturers and the styles. It was nirvana. The smell of finely made shoes is intoxicating.

It was also the first time I was allowed to wear High Heels. A white patent leather shoes with an ankle strap and quarter inch heel, I was forever hooked on what was the precursor to the Pump. It made me feel so grown up, so special.

I was a woman.

The only problem was that I was a clumsy woman.

My mother wouldn't let me get them unless I "broke them in." I think she just wanted me to practice walking in them so I wouldn't kill myself.

Now I can run the 100-yard dash in them (and have on a bet when I was 25. Ah, youth.) Having all those kids strengthened my ankles and tightened my calves. I could wear three-inch heels to a dance and not feel a thing. Nowadays they make them in 5 inch, but I know that’s a recipe for disaster for me.

I know I'm going to end up as one of those old ladies who has lipstick on her teeth and a poodle by her side.

But, hey. I'll be wearing some great looking shoes as I drag that walker behind me.