Shoes have landed many a girl into trouble. They say diamonds are a girl's best friend, but fellow Sex and the City diehards can bear me witness that it's really shoes that do it for some. Generally speaking, a lady believes that she should or must, like all other women, love shoes, and it easily turns from an object of desire into a life of obsession and impulsion. Well, as earlier stated, that's a general assumption, and in reality, these things differ case by case. For some, a day comes when you realize that continuous long distance walks and pointy toed flats don't do so well together, just as standing for hours on end and dancing away in stilettos every (other) weekend is a neither a great idea nor feeling.
I'm pretty sure I wrote one, two or a dozen old posts about my love for shoes (ideally stilettos). Over the last couple years, I've had a lifestyle change that saw me doing a ton of walking, and quite frequently too. As time went by, my feet were starting to get scarred and I was paying little attention. The walking increased, and I should have changed my footwear but I kept my old habits of buying shoes for the aesthetic pleasure, a lot of which were ill-fitting, with the hopes and reasoning that the shoes would break in someday, and all I had to do was to keep walking in them. In fact, the more they hurt, the closer the shoes were to becoming very comfortable someday.
I remember a time when I got this absolutely stunning pair of Christian Siriano shoes. They were gorgeous, blue and a size too small, but I took them anyway and mentally promised myself they would break in soon. First time I rocked them, it was to an outing with a group of friends. Sure enough, the shoes brought tons of compliments and had my friends gushing, but it was torturous, and in no time the only thing on my mind was heading home and taking the shoes off. I ended up limping hurriedly to the car before the event ended. The pair sat untouched on my shelf after that, until I gave them out. In fact now that I think of it, a few more similar instances come to mind.
At some point, the stupidity phase has to end, no? Is it when you're no longer under your parent's allowance and stop seeing value in buying things you don't really need? Or is it when you no longer care so much about lousy fashion rules and silly expectations? Well, maybe a combination of the two and a third: blistering your skin. Yes, having scored a couple blisters in exchange for aesthetics, I'm not exactly ecstatic. Time to switch things up, and better late than never if you ask me.
So there you have it, a soi-disant advocate for corporate kicks, with a new pinterest board to show: Kicking, Styling, Working. I spent the weekend overhauling my shoe rack and walking down the aisle of men's shoe stores. Even as I cleared out my rack, I found some pairs that had never been worn since I brought them home, and I knew deep down I would never wear because the hurt was real. What a shame. Safe to say the bulk of my beautifully dysfunctional shoes have been neatly packed up, ready for a charity drop off.
I'm not saying that I'm done wearing stilettos for the rest of my life, no, that's not my manifesto. I think comfort and style go hand in hand. And while we're at it, throw some common sense in there too.