After college, my dependence graduated to the next price category. I started craving the Steve Maddens, the Chinese Laundries, and the BCBG Girls. Luckily, I had more money to spend on shoes—but not that much more—so I had to control the frequency of my shopping trips. I’m now averaging about six new pairs per year, which allows me to live—and keep a roof over my purple shoe shelf—as a functioning shoe addict.
Of course I am aware that the “shoe thing” is a bit cliché these days—thanks a lot, Carrie Bradshaw—but it does still hold some weight, so to speak. There have been times I’ve overindulged around the holidays or partaken in some emotional eating, and that extra five pounds or so, which can make all the difference in my fancy pants, won’t matter one bit when it comes to shoes. Nor would even fifty pounds, come to think of it, but I’m hoping I won’t test this theory!
Some people may look at my shoe shelves and see only the evidence of an accessory abuse problem. Me, I see the lovely arrangement of fifty-six unique beauties. There are my Romy and Michelle shoes: chunky aqua vinyl platform sandals with clear blue plastic piping. And then there are my Barbie/Streetwalker shoes: super-high gold slides with a rhinestone heart connecting the two straps of leather over the toes.
Certain pairs have strong memories associated with them—like the gold Gucci pumps I found secondhand at a shop in Paris the day I climbed to the top of Notre Dame. Or the denim slides embellished with beadwork and embroidery over the toes I treated myself to for having quit smoking. There are the tan wedge-heeled sandals I wore over the Williamsburg Bridge on the day of the New York City blackout. There are the pink stacked-heel strappy sandals that I bought to visit my Greek boyfriend because he loved the fact that I love pink.
The right shoe can quietly compliment your outfit, or it can push your ensemble over the edge to total fabulousness. It can lengthen your leg and it can alter the look of your calf. The right shoe can make you happy. I’m happy to take a twelve-step program to acknowledge my addiction, but only if I can wear a fabulous new pair of shoes to mark each step!
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