Back in, oh, say, the 2000's, shoes were a status symbol. Since replaced by handbags (more about that later), shoes continue to fascinate me. And most of the women I know. The question is: WHY? The answer is: I DON'T KNOW! Maybe I'll discover it here....
I first became aware of shoes, that is to say, bothered/enamored/confused by shoe-ideology when I was in elementary school. For some reason, my Mom bought plaid adorned saddle shoes for me. My older sister Linda got the standard issue black & whites, and I got a red plaid version. Red. Plaid. Even at the tender ago of 7 I knew there was something wrong with that.
Not only was I creeped out by those shoes, I was fascinated by them. They were different...unique. Nobody else had a pair like them. It's like they were custom-made by the shoe elves. Evil shoe elves.
Then in the 6th grade, I was finally able to pick out my own pair of shoes. We got only two pair per year at that time; sneakers and dress shoes. Oh, and flip flops in the summer. Mine were yellow that year.
Anyway, the shoes I chose were a pointy-toed little black number with a bow and a tiny little heel. Not quite a kitten heel, but a heel nonetheless. My Mom campaigned against them, explaining the discomfort of heels and the impracticality of the bow, but *magically* she bought them for me. I wore them until the heel ran down cock-eyed and had to be shaved off. But I loved those shoes.
Just as I love a pair that's in my closet now: black, pointy-toed, with a kitten heel and a bow. Hmm.
Well, I actually love all the shoes in my closet. And the ones on the bedroom floor, the ones in the living room by the front door, the ones in my secret cabinet....a shoe or boot for every occasion and mood. I love heels the most. Stiletto or chubby, stacked or tapered, wedge or platform, you get the picture.