The Perfect Shoes

We all want things all the time. It’s part of the modern human condition to never be fully satisfied with our lot in life, whether it be our jobs, our bodies or our possessions, there is always something more that we crave but don’t necessarily need. Perhaps its due to the fact that instant gratification is now expected in all areas of our lives; from ordering books online to buying fat burners at Holland and Barratt, it seems as though our generation has lost the ability to value longevity. ‘Wanting’ in general is not necessarily a bad thing at all; it gives us a goal, a summit to reach, a target and these things all create in us a sense of self-responsibility, that is to say, by wanting something, we push ourselves to acquire it. If you want that promotion you batter down the competition and prove you’re the best for the job, if you want that last pair of Kurt Geiger’s you better be ready to floor some bitches for those kicks , and you will be praised for you fervor. So why is it that when we want a person, giving it our all is deemed “desperate”?

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 Imagine the scene, you’re out shopping one fine day, bank card loaded up with this month’s paycheck, handbag prepped with a bottle of water and snacks, phone on silent so no one can interrupt you. Eventually you find them, the most beautiful shoes in the land, flat and practical in a glorious shade of pastel lilac with playful leather fringing and tassels across the fronts. They’re just your size, well within your budget and (for once)  you are not lying to yourself and everyone around you when you swear they will go with everything. So you try them on and they fit beautifully and the sales assistants are cooing and the other customers are glowing an envious green. They must be yours. You get them home and the day comes when you wear them out for the first time, and lo and behold… they rub relentlessly at the backs, leaving you with blisters and resentment. So here is my question;these shoes that you adore so much hurt, do you give up and throw them out, or do you throw on a pair of socks and persevere? For those of you who give in, you didn’t deserve those shoes in the first place, you were not willing to go through a little pain for a lot of gain. The best shoes are the ones you wear in, the ones that take their time molding to the shape and size of your feet. This is why I am willing to put myself through a whole heap of shit on my personal quest for the perfect shoe. Everyone is different, for some its those Christian Louboutin Miss Rigidanie PVCs, others chose indestructible Doc Marten’s and for many its reliable Converse or even those horrendously-made and ill-fitting Primark offerings.

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Of course I’m  not talking about shoes, but its a lot easier to defend your actions when talking about inanimate objects than people. I was accused this morning of acting “desperate” by a very close friend of mine (I will add here that I was in no way offended, but it got me thinking enough to start writing) because I am continuing contact with one of those mind-fucks I’ve written of so fondly.  Now I know that this contact could possibly be detrimental to my mental well being, given the last contact we had concluded with him yelling at me in the street outside a bar until my friends physically removed me from the scene . Me being me, I have defended him to all those who are far closer to me than he is, offering my own explanations for the psyche screwing, the radio silence and the apparent lack of low level social skills. Why? Because you don’t throw new shoes out because they haven’t been properly broken in yet. I am, of course, all too aware that in honoring people with the benefits of my doubts, I am leaving myself open to all the nasty things that can occur; regret, heart ache, disdain. But I’m also blazing the trail for the nice things that could come because no one will put their trust in you if they don’t think its reciprocated, that’s human nature.

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You know the best thing about shoes though, you are supposed to have more than one pair. You can wear your oxblood brogues one day, your lilac fabu-flats the next and your leather ankle boots the next and no one can say a damn thing about it. I was not made for one shoe, one style or one material, I was made to look at them all, make my mistakes and remain faithful to the ones I’ve had the longest. Yes, I may treat myself to the odd pair of Irregular Choice Abgail’s Party Sequin Kittens, and yes I may toy with the idea of  transparent glitter Jelly Shoes, but these fads come and go, but Converse are forever.  Just gotta find the perfect pair.

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2 Comments

  1. I don’t know what it is about the fairer sex and shoes! But your writing is just magnificent. It’s great to know that there are still beings out there who have some sense of loyalty in them, as you do with the maniacal dude outside the bar. I absolutely love this post!

    Liked by 1 person

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