If the Shoe Fits...

One peek in the far corner of my closet and you would think I had cash to burn on shoes. I haven’t arrived to the point where I started counting them, but the sheer quantity is enough proof that I have a footwear “issue”. It wouldn’t be so bad if I actually wore the shoes, boots and sandals, but I don’t. Well, at least not more than once or twice. I ponder if my issue is more severe than the average woman who, like me, just can’t walk past a shoe store without going “WOW!” at some piece of foot candy in the window. My problem? I don’t keep walking.

When I wander into the stores, usually with no cash on hand, I try on a pair or five until I “stumble” on the pair I can’t live without. I’m left uttering to myself, “Thank you, Amex!”

At home, I slip them on and strut around the house while thinking about the numerous outfits to complete the picture. Oh, the dreams... The plans I make for the edgy shoes with the funky heels, the suits I can wear with the stilettos, the skinny jeans I can wear with the riding boots. And, boy, do I! Fun is hardly the word. It’s amazing how sexy and uplifted a pair of new shoes can make me feel. Then, just like that, the love affair is over. It’s an easy parallel to my nephew’s birthday parties where his favorite new toy is the star of the show. For three days, you can’t pry it from him without the tantrum of all tantrums. Then on day four, the poor toy is tossed in the corner of the living room like it never existed. My shoes suffer the same fate; worn a time or two before I return to old faithful. Yeah, those black pumps or brown stiletto boots that go with everything and feel like my comfy slippers, too.

Where does such a sickness come from? Could it be that whole dopamine thing? Is it possible I get a rush from retail therapy? I mean, I have enough sense to steer clear of stores when I know my resistance is weak, but even that requires an enormous amount of restraint. Why? Maybe it derives from that one time, years back when I talked myself out of the coolest pair of boots. I got home and couldn’t think of anything more than the gut-wrenching words, “They’re the last pair in your size.” First thing the next morning, I made a beeline for the store, was there when the doors opened. The boots were gone. Someone had snatched them up, and I never saw that style again. They were that unique. Apparently I never recovered from that horror. So, what might be the best solution? Perhaps I need therapy, and maybe a little variety. As I scan the shelves I realize I only have one pair of gray shoes. With winter coming, shouldn’t I have a hot new pair to usher in the season? But this time they’ll be practical. A pair I can wear at least once a week. Hmmm… Where have I heard that before?