I have a thing for shoes. But it’s not what you might think.
It’s easy to like shoes… to want shoes… to find shoes… if you’re a size 7 (women’s). If you happen to wear a 10 1/2 (women’s) resign yourself. You’ll never find anything good. 10s are too small. 11s are too big.
Eight years ago I found a pair of pink Chucks on the sale rack at DSW. Today we part ways. My new black Chucks have arrived.
These pink Chucks and I have walked a lot of miles together.
Here I am in 2009 three-months pregnant (and tired) in San Francisco in my pink shoes:
You know what’s not good for A LOT of walking? Like MILES of walking (because you don’t know how to use public transportation)? Chuck Taylors. I finally figured out how to read bus routes on this trip (btw).
I don’t think I’ve felt this sad about changing out shoes since I replaced my Doc Martens, which became unserviceable my senior year of college. I bought those Docs my sophomore year of high school. Those Docs and I went a lot of places together: fields, rivers, the Leggett’s parking lot in Farmville–all the places a rural kid hangs out in high school.
We even went to senior prom together.
Everything goes with a pair of Doc Martens. Everything goes with a pair of black Chucks too as demonstrated on my wedding day, which took place in the backyard of my unpainted house.
As much as I hate to say good-bye to my pink All-Stars, I know that dressing for work just got a little easier.