Shoes I Have Known


You know you’re turning 50 when shoes simply don’t mean anything anymore. When the cry of your arches is more important than turning heads. Well, maybe…

I have about five pairs of shoes. I decided today that this weekend, I’m going to splurge. But no shoes will come close to these:

1. My Via Spigas (similar to the ones above). I had those about eight years ago when I really wanted to be rich and Italian.
2. My Doc Martens, the really high kind. Kicked the brats out of the way when I went to Foo Fighters concerts.
3. My Chucks all-stars. The originals. My brothers always got them, but girls couldn’t have them. Well last year, I finally broke down and got a pair. Actually, they aren’t that comfortable. But I felt cool for a few days.
4. My cowboy boots. Okay, that phase lasted about a week.
5. Last year I finally discovered flipflops that don’t hurt that space between your toes. I’m really happy about that.
6. During my disco slut days, I danced in four-inch bedazzled black patent leather thingey. Honestly.
7. My Mary Janes. And if you know what those are, you’re old too.

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