Like most women I know, I love shoes. Over the weekend, I read an article in the Telegraph about three women and their shoe collections. One woman cited in the article owns 356 pairs of Manolos. Astonishing. (Well, it is in my world.)
The article reminded me of a friend’s mother, a life-long fashionista, who rode the senior citizen bus to Neiman-Marcus to check out their salon shoe sale. As she hurried across the parking lot, she tripped over a parking pod and fell. Undettered, she limped into the store and tried on several pairs of shoes. When she got home, her foot was terribly swollen. Her husband took her to the emergency room where she was diagnosed with a broken foot. The day wasn’t a total loss. She scored a pair of Salvatore Ferragamos on sale. Mission accomplished.
I used to have a serious shoe fetish. After I got married, I worked part-time from home. I didn’t have to dress for the office anymore, so I decided it was time to clear out the closet. One weekend, our block had a garage sale and to my husband’s horror (I assured him I’d bought the shoes before we were married), I set out seventy boxes of shoes to be sold.
Almost all of the shoes were black and they were either worn once, never worn or fell under the “what the hell was I thinking?” category. There was a mob of women on our driveway for the first few hours. When the dust settled, two pairs of size 6.5 chocolate suede loafers remained. I put them in the Goodwill box.
Nowadays, I satisfy my shoe fetish by reading about heroines who covet their Jimmy Choos, Christian Louboutins, and Manolo Blahniks, or I’ll flip through a fashion magazine while I’m at the hair salon. The heroine in my manuscript can’t afford designer shoes. Gee, I wish she could.
I collect things. I’m not a hoarder, rather a sentimental pack rat. Table linens. Old manual typewriters. Cake stands. Vintage posters. And like most of you, I have tons of books. The only thing worse than a designer shoe sale is a 4-3 deal on Amazon or a library book sale.
When we moved into our house, the movers commented that they’d never seen so many boxes of books. I read a lot. I still have all of my Dr. Seuss books and my collection of Scholastic Book Club books from grade school. Remember those? My husband’s also a big reader. And while I still own a lot of shoes, the numbers pale in comparison to the stacks of books we have in every room of the house and the boxes of books stored in the garage and basement. I’ve discovered it’s a lot easier to part with shoes than books.
So here’s my question….if you were limited to two fabulous pairs of shoes and two great books, what would they be and why?
Here’s the link to the article from the Telegraph:
If you decide not to read the article, at least check out the great pictures.