Shoe Life

It's no secret that I love shoes. I am a firm believer that shoes can represent your personality, dress up any outfit and make a statement. I can also relate shoes to big moments in my life. And you thought I was weird before...

The first time I put on my toe shoes I felt so grown up. For years I had watched the older girls in the dance studio balance on their big toes, legs long and straight, back arched. I longed to dance like them, to be like them. I was nine, a little on the young side, but ready. The toe shoes were baby pink satin with long ribbons my mom had sewn on. I remember the feel of the lambswool on my toes, the look of the ribbons tied around my tights and the smell of the rosin as I crushed it under my toe. For years after that I defined myself as a dancer. As if putting on those shoes represented who I was.

In fifth grade I wore the red Tweety Bird sneakers. As hideous as they were, I didn't think so at the time. In fact, they were the first pair of sneakers I ever had that my mom didn't have any say over. Before going shopping she assured me that I would be allowed to pick out my own shoes. And boy did I. She hated them. Tacky, she said. And I was going through that awkward, lanky stage where my feet were huge. What's the best way to deal with that? Emphasize their size with big red sneakers. Awesome. But despite how ugly they were, I loved them. And I picked them out all by myself.

Eight grade brought the clear platform jellies. Another great choice, I know. But this one wasn't all about me. This one was about boys. Because the minute I put on those shoes I felt adult and attractive. I was 13, after all. In my wide leg Limited jeans, velour top and clear jellies, I felt ready to talk to any boy. And I did. Got my first real boyfriend that year.

High school brought high heeled mary janes and Nine West boots, a new boyfriend and attention from guys as I walked down the hall. I knew they were checking me out as my heels clicked down the hall. And I liked it.

I went to Europe the summer after graduation and this is where the addiction began. My first pair of "real" heels, gorgeous, unique, expensive heels came from a boutique in Austria. Things were never the same after that.

I was wearing knee-high black boots the night I realized I was in love with Michael. I wore those boots until the heels broke.

The day I walked across the stage and accepted my college diploma I was wearing pink heels with a little bow. I was so happy, I think I might have strutted. Just a little.

One day I will buy the perfect, elegant shoes to wear with my wedding gown, the first pair of tiny shoes for my baby and eventually shoes to wear to my children's graduations and weddings.

My shoes will always have a story to tell.