Today I tossed my favorite pair of shoes in the trash.
They were perfect, and I fear I’ll never find a pair of shoes that fit so well with so many outfits, in so many situations.
These shoes have been to Las Vegas, Pennsylvania and New York City, photographed and shown in a magazine (on my feet!) camping, hospitals, airplane tours….pretty much anywhere I’ve been for the past six years, these shoes have taken me. As my husband, who proudly still uses a 16-year-old wallet and who fixed his cellphone after he ran it over with his Jeep would say, “they’re my buddies!”
However, the time has come to say goodbye.
Some might argue they’re ugly. Some might say that Stacy and Clinton would gasp in horror at the platform-y style these loafers were. Granted, they were bought six years ago, clearly out of the realm of style today. Some might say my attachment to these shoes was bizarre. Some might say that wearing them in the condition they deteriorated to was committing a serious fashion faux-pas.
To you, I stand and defiantly answer: THEY WERE AWESOME SHOES!
Perfect for winter, they kept my feet and pants off the ground, avoiding that chalky white residue from the salt they use here in Wisconsin. With a 3-inch platform, they gave me needed height that took me from staring at my husband’s Kawasaki logo on his chest to (almost) reach his shoulders. They were inky black when new, complementing both dark and lighter wash jeans.
Today, they are but a shell of their former glory. Where the toe was once securely fastened to the sole, there is a gaping hole, so large you can see about six inches of sock. Pretty useless, no matter where worn.
I realized awhile back that I will need to throw these shoes out. I’m not a fan of exposing my socks to the elements, especially when they’re supposed to be protected. Problem is, I can’t find any that match my criteria. These slip-on-and-go shoes were perfect for everything from standing 10 hours a day in a Trade Show Booth to running downstairs to switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer. And THE HEIGHT! Those glorious 3 inches of platform took most outfits from short and dumpy and wrinkled on the bottom pants to hey-it’s-not-so-bad in mere seconds. There’s a reason models are tall, clothes look better when they lie flat from head to toe. These shoes gave me that advantage.
But no outfit looks “not-so-bad” polished off by that. So I say my goodbyes. Perched on the edge of the dumpster we have for the bathroom remodel, I know I must tip them in. So, with an inhale of courage, I step forward and nudge them to the bottom where I won’t be able to dig them out in a moment of weakness.
And now the search is on for a suitable replacement.
Dear shoes, you’ve served me well. I will miss you. If I were wearing you, you’d see the wave I give my toes in salute.