I can recall the milestones in my life by enumerating my life by shoe eras. As long as I remember I’ve only had four pairs of shoes, in my childhood. I remember it being classified this way: school shoes (black), rubber shoes (for PE), dress shoes (literally, to go with the dress, but again, in white) and finally, formal shoes (to go with my flower girl gowns). Every occasion would entitle a much awaited trip to SM where I would be overwhelmed with the constant buzz of shoe codes broadcasted by department store ladies into a mysterious hidden shoe reservoir. This trip would be preceded by an analysis of whether the retiring shoes are worthy castoffs, and rugbying the front part is a lost cause
This uncomplicated category of shoes in my closet seemed perfectly ordinary through to my college years – with school shoes replaced by my sturdy Birkinstocks (worn with thick, sports socks) and my P.E. rubber shoes, with Keds sneakers. My dress shoes evolved from wearing my white mary janes to penny loafers. It fit my lifestyle perfectly, especially my idealistic years of serving in the impoverished community where I taught catechism to children who could each barely afford a new pair of slippers for their feet. My sandals and loafers were a perfect reflection of my life: uncomplicated and simple.
Graduation led me to venture into another type of category: heels! And here, I was surprised to find that this category was an endless portal to footwear! Having worn jeans most of my life, I was cautious to try anything beyond one inch, considering them too elegant and intimidating. Besides I did not have the corresponding femininity to pull it off. But, being forced to wear “dressy shoes”, I would go for the low pump – in black of course, and if I were adventurous enough, sling backs were the spiffy alternative. Another natural choice for me were boots, which covered my feet just fine and seemed to be a logical progression from loafers. I dressed conservatively, always prioritizing comfort over aesthetics.
Years flew by and I was content in my newly evolved category, with of course, a few more shoes for each category, but still immune to this whole psychology between a woman and her shoes.
Graduate school came and then after I landed my first adult job – brand manager for a portfolio of luxury brands. I knew dressing carefully came with the job, by the simple fact that we were representing leading fashion brands but what opened my eyes was the role of shoes to a woman. I dint understand it at first, having classified my shoes into neat little categories, but what amazed me was the essential component of shoes in defining femininity for a woman.
To explain I think it’s important to point out that I was thrust into a world where dressing is practically a religion. An ensemble was put together from head to toe with flair and glamour, but the piece de resistance came, quite literally, down to the shoes. It was in these twin punctuation marks that would capsulate the state of mind of this person for the day: you could gauge what their day would be like, their mood, their plans after work, and other things that I dint quite figure in between. I was in a world where shoes dint need categories; shoes were an elevated form of expression with unending possibilities. Shoes could make or break the person’s outfit for the day. In fact I think, retail therapy’s close cousin is shoe therapy.
It astonished me that because in this culture, it’s perfectly fine to buy more than two pairs of shoes at a time. I must admit this was a fun time for me, as I came to develop my own style and the glamorous life beckoned appealingly. Nevertheless, I had to return to my real roots, and innate calling for education – which is why I pursued my real vocation as I was settling down.
I am now entering another chapter of my life as I pursue my calling, and my primary goal is to prepare myself for motherhood. This time, I am being pressed by anyone motherly; to skip the heels and wear comfortable flats (probably an indication that my previous life has altered my taste in more lasting ways than I imagined).
And as I voluntarily give in to this ‘requirement’ of the moment I’m beginning to realize that in life, you really do come a full circle. I’ve traded some of my painful but stunning heels to sensible flats, and I find without regret that I am back home to my simple days where teaching and simplicity ruled my life.
I’VE HEARD IT SAID
Pebble in a Pond 