Love Affair

As a child, I remember watching “The Elves & The Shoemaker” over and over again, each time more mesmerized than the last. Not by the story, but by the shoes- the beautiful, intricately crafted shoes. Through my 5-year-old eyes, they were magic. Thus began my love affair with footwear.

Growing up, my grandmother used to scold me because I’d often stare down while walking. She thought it a product of low self-esteem. In truth, I was only staring at people’s shoes, scrutinizing the ones I’d wear myself. While everybody else was busy people-watching, I kept my head down and “shoe-watched”. Occasionally, a pair would stand out, and I’d look up to check out the person in them. I especially looked forward to the Communion lines that would form at Church. I’d sit by the stairs and amuse myself by watching the parade of footwear. I still do sometimes. So, yes, that freak staring at your feet last Sunday was probably me.

This habit carried on as I became a teenager and started showing interest in the opposite sex. My initial basis for eligibility wouldn’t be the smile or the clothes. It’d be (what else) the shoes. Only when this criterion was met would I look up and nurse my interest in that particular boy.

I don’t precisely know why, maybe because it puts me at ease to be able to get a read on someone’s personality by his/her choice of footwear. One of my friends for instance, went through a phase of wearing aqua shoes everywhere he went. One doesn’t need a psychology degree to deduce that he’s not one to follow societal norms. Despite my constant ribbing, he refused to give in, claiming comfort over fashion. And I say phase because he wore them to the ground, and he hasn’t been (hopefully never will be) able to find a suitable replacement. Oh well, I guess they suit his quirky, practical personality. I kind of miss them actually.

I used to go out with this guy who wore Chuck Taylors all the time. I liked that, he was pretty laid back, kind of happy-go-lucky. Then I noticed he wore them everywhere, for months. Was that because he only had a one track mind? (Hahaha) Well, he eventually started wearing other pairs, along with revealing his true colors. Another guy used to flaunt his Banana Republic and Ralph Lauren loafers. He once influenced me to wear Italian snakeskin wedges (that would probably cripple me later in life) and my mom’s Louis bag for a date at the mall. I was fifteen. I should’ve known better.

I on the other hand, prefer to exhibit my multi-faceted personality (known in lesser terms as my scatterbrained-ness) by wearing all kinds of shoes. There is no particular style that defines me. I’m an espadrille-wearing, sneaker-sporting, stiletto-pumping, cowboy boot-lover in mismatched flip flops. Either that, or I just don’t want to be pigeonholed as a certain type. I’m not exactly sure yet. I just like to experiment. When I’m feeling creative, I’ll resurrect my sister’s 4-year old flats and embellish them back to life. Sometimes I’ll wear 5-inch killer heels that’ll definitely maim not only me but innocent bystanders as well. Oh well, like everything else, it’s a learning process. Sometimes slow, sometimes painful.

After all this meandering thought, I’ve come to this conclusion: Shoes, like relationships come and go. But this love affair is not the shop-til-you-drop, Imeldific thousand-pumps-in-my-closet kind. I seek for the heart-stopping stand-outs that can only be found once in a while as a by-product of scrupulous expeditions. Tedious as this process may be, still, my never-ending, unfaltering adoration for these beautiful things will do just that: never end, never falter. :)