Buying shoes is a personal hobby of mine. To say I love shoes would be an understatement; I absolutely adore shoes and although I am sure there are other less materialistic things that give me great pleasure, I can’t think of them right now. Actually, the whole footwear spectrum makes my heart sing. I am not sure when the whole infatuation-with-footwear thing began, but it has taken me down a road that even Imelda Marcos didn’t travel. Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but I have purchased a lot of footwear over the last few years and I am sure that habit will continue, as much as my retirement cheques will allow anyway.
I love going into a shoe store at the beginning of each season to see what is on display. I mark those seasonal changes by purchasing footwear that matches the weather: summer is a time for strappy sandals, slip-on sandals, and open-toe pumps, fall means pulling out the flats and the pumps of many colors that can coordinate with whatever outfit I am wearing, winter means pulling out the boots – snow boots, boots for slush, low boots, high boots – you name it, I probably own them in a cornucopia of colors, materials and heel heights. Thank goodness we get a great variation in winter weather so that I can purchase all the different kinds of specialty footwear required.
Now Loverboy has a real difficulty with the amount of shoes and boots I own. He can’t understand why I need more than one or two pairs of shoes. He usually buys two pairs of shoes at a time and then promptly forgetting that he bought two pairs, wears one pair exclusively until it is worn out. Despairing that he might have to go shoe shopping, he rifles around the closet, roughly throwing my precious shoes aside by the way, until he finds the other pair he purchased but never wore. He dusts them off, tries them on to make sure they are comfortable and then gleefully goes back to the Sports Network. Crisis averted; he does not have to go shopping for a few more years! If there is something Loverboy hates worse than the large number of shoes that I own, it is going shopping for anything that can’t be purchased at Shoppers Drug Mart or McDonalds!
The only real problem I have with my shoes is how to store them properly. If I were wealthy and could afford it, I would have a room dedicated to my shoes. I have seen pictures of “shoe closets” in magazines (some are bigger than my own bedroom!) and I will admit I have drooled and fantasized about giving my shoes a fantastic room of their own. I know they would really appreciate it, too. Unfortunately, living in house that is almost one hundred years old means that I have many other “useful” things that I have to spend my money on like new sewer pipes, extra insulation, an upgraded electrical system, and the list goes on and on and on. So a shoe closet, although a very practical idea in my mind, will have to wait until the I win the lotto. I am keeping my fingers crossed on that one because I just won one hundred and forty four dollars on a Rotary ticket I bought. If that is not a harbinger of an impending lotto win, I don’t know what is. Come on Atlantic Lotto, my shoes are depending on you!
I love shoe shopping so much that I have even directed those who know and love me that upon my death they are to bury me at DSW (Designer Shoe Warehouse for those not up on the footwear acronyms). Where else can you find every style and color of shoes, boots, sandals, and sneakers under one roof … well, besides my house, that is? DSW is really a shoe lover’s fantasy and I am a shoe lover so I think this is the perfect place. I am not sure about the legalities of this idea so I will leave it to those I leave behind to ensure my wishes are honoured. In the meantime, I will continue to buy the shoes because, after all, I am still alive and kicking!