Monday, 22 October 2012
A package sends me searching for nostalgia
I am a 70 year old woman and I just bought a pair of boots that I could have used if I were under 20 and looking for a not-so-revered job on the street. Not that I regret it, I'm going to wear those boots with joy, but it does make me wonder about the Lorna/shoe relationship.
I can remember shoes I owned or wanted at almost any age---under 12, I wanted high-top Converse runners, which only boys wore at the time and only came in black. I didn't get them until I was in my 40's and Dave bought them for me in red.
During the teen years, I was torn. The first half of my teen years I had to wear brown tie-up oxfords with my school uniform, so naturally my shoe of choice then was a white and silver brocade round-toed pump. Unnaturally, I bought it in a size 6, which was a size and a half smaller than my foot. The second half of my teens, I was a schoolteacher, and because I was both short and young, the remembered shoe of that time was high-heeled and black, but very, very serious.
Getting through the 20's without a pair of killer sandals was not going to happen, and I remember having lime green modified-gladiator sandals as well as some much-loved, worn-to-tatters white boots with a zipper up the back.
My 30's were blessed with wonderful shoes that I bought while I was living in Germany---amazing styles and colours that, because of the great dollar-to-deutschemark rate, seemed too good to be true. I remember gifting my mother and my sisters with German shoes too, at least one pair of which is still in my mother's house now.
My 40's happened in the 80's and I had boots, sandals, shoes and running shoes that complemented my big-eye, big-hair, glitzy self. These, particularly the boots, lasted until we did our big down-sizing in 2008, and I swear I've seen some of them at the Mercury Bar since.
In my 50's, I started hearing rumblings from Dave about the danger of my wearing heels around the same time as I developed a bunion the size of an onion on one of my feet---definitely connected, says Dave, to the size 6 shoes of my teen years. I still managed though to wear boots and shoes with wedges, high heels and open toes or slingbacks---if it was dangerous, I was drawn to it, if it was really dangerous, I couldn't resist.
When I was 65, Dave gave me a pair of anklehigh runners that were covered in beads and sequins at about the same time that I bought a pair of bluegray satiny sequinned shoes with a 4 inch wedge and which laced to the knee. We were still at odds, me and the person who cared so much more than I did about feet.
So that's why I needed camel-coloured over-the-knee suede boots. I knew I could convince you.