My Shoes

I was just walking down the street in Toronto, on holiday. I didn’t mean to buy shoes. They didn’t give me any choice. They called out to me as I walked past. For all I knew they were invisible to anyone else, and had just appeared in time for me to walk by. The shop only had the one pair. They fitted, and I could just about afford them.

My silver boots.

Rubber platform soled, calf length, silver lace up boots. A world away from the rest of my shoes – grotty trainers; the black converse one stars held together by black electrical tape that were practically moulded to my feet; one pair of plain, flat, black doc martens for work. Yet somehow I knew these boots were for me.

They took me everywhere, those boots. The centre of attention with a little black dress; peeking out of the bottom of my purple cord trousers; buried in the mix of a short, rust coloured maternity dress covered in yellow stars and crescents worn with a necklace made of bells.

The platforms gave me an extra couple of inches in height. The brightness, and the unusual style suggested a confidence that I didn’t have. I wore them partly to push myself to interact with people – it’s hard to hide in a corner with a book with silver boots on; and partly to hide behind – the boots became the focus, rather than me.

Ten years on I’m not sure where the boots are. I think in the loft in my parent’s home. Would I wear them now? I think I would, but for different reasons. Now I’d wear them as shoes should be worn – as an accessory to me. I don’t think they would out-shine me any more.

Written for Sunday Scribblings

5 thoughts on “My Shoes

  1. Ahhh. Hey you. I remember those boots well. I think they fitted/reflected you just fine then, as they would now. You and your black and white dress and me in my lime green one…a force to be reckoned with and no mistake. Club Capri anyone?

  2. Oooh I think we need a pic – next time you are in your parents place. Hope your foot is healing from your knitting injury. My heel feels sore just even thinking about it.

  3. Fascinating how a pair of boots or shoes can be practically destined for us! I love your last two lines …”Now I’d wear them as shoulds should be worn – as an accessory to me. I don’t think they would outshine me any more.” Wonderful!

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