merin: day 15 \ shoeaday

At various points in my life my devotion to shoes has been questioned by the men in my life. Men, take note: if you aren’t gay and fabulous the only appropriate comment for a woman’s shoe is “those are cool, I like them. I’ll bet you got them on sale too.” Why is this? Because you couldn’t possible know how deep a bond women have with their shoes nor do you really know anything about shoes. So stick to that, it’s safe and will hold you in good stead.

My father bought these shoes for me because he couldn’t calculate the conversion from lira to dollars in his head faster than I could find, try on and request his credit card to buy these shoes. We were in pre-Euro, circa-1999 Italy and I was not old enough to be coveting Costume National wedge sandals (but really, is there a *too young* to start a lifelong friendship with shoes?). We were walking down a small street in Arezzo when I spotted them in a window. I knew it was love. It all happened so fast (which is the only reason my father paid for them). People (dad) immediately disapproved of the romance. “Are you sure those are worth it? You better be wearing them ten years from now for how much they cost.”

Touche, dad, touche.

n.b. one of my greatest talents is that I can remember where and when I bought every single item of clothing that I own. Truly, every piece. Try me.


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