My Love Of Shoes Is Lost On My Daughter

4 years ago



I adore shoes. In case anyone missed that. My love of shoes is what inspired the name of this blog. Which unfortunately is not a shoe blog.

Oh why can’t people send me shoes and invite me to blog about them?

There. I just put it out there in the universe. So now it is going to happen. I believe.

I would love a shoe blog. And a shoe line. Heck I can’t even say that I would hate working in a shoe store. With dibs on new arrivals. And discounts. I may have missed my calling.

Many shoes through the years earned my affection: sassy little brown boots with a rubber heel (age 5), classic black and white rah rahs (age 8) and ultra cool purple Nikes (age 11). Oh I cannot forget hot pink LA Gears at around 14.

I loved them all.

At age 21 I bought my first pair of shoes with a significant heel. And by significant I mean two whole inches. A woman shoe if you will. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I bought them in a Bass outlet.

Yes I said Bass outlet. It was a black pump with a chunky heel, which was the style back then. It was tall but not too tall. It was perfect.

When I was a little girl I would sneak into my mother’s closet. She was a sensible gal and only had a couple of pairs of non-sensible shoes. They were for special occasions.

One was a brown, strappy number. The other was a Candies hot-pink slide. You know the one I am talking about. The one with the wood platform heel.


And by divine I mean I was 6. And it was the 70s. And I really wanted someone to take me to a disco.

I would try on those amazing shoes every chance I got. Not like I could actually walk in them. I could however stand in front of the mirror and admire them on my feet. I too would have fabulous shoes one day.

The Bass shoe had to be mine. I forked over my hard-earned money. And this is when my tall shoe collection began.

Unfortunately I never really had a job which required tall, fabulous shoes. That didn’t stop me though. Shoes became my art collection. Buying too-high shoes was my hobby.

My taste in shoes has changed over the years. You probably won’t see me sporting a two-inch chunky heel. If I am sporting anything tall it will probably be a 5 inch platform in red or maybe pink. I have learned to have fun with my shoes.

One might ask: What does a stay at home mother of four need with a collection of fabulous, tall shoes? And I would have to agree. More days than not I am wearing very sensible shoes. But a few days a year I am called to duty for a holiday party, an evening with friends or a wedding. I am always prepared.

Sometimes I go into my closet and just stare at my collection. Thinking about the days ahead when my closet will have shelves, a white leather sofa and a pink chandelier.

There I put that out there too. Did you catch that one, Universe?

I collect shoes like someone might collect stamps. Or bugs. Or husbands. It is my passion.

And by passion I mean we are raising four kids and there isn’t a lot of extra money lying around for passions. But sometimes there is.

Considering my love of shoes, you can probably imagine how excited I was to have a daughter. One day she would share my love of shoes. It was destiny.

I imagined how she would beg to try mine on her tiny feet. She would stand in front of the mirror, admiring each pair. It would be so fun to watch.

It almost happened too. Except…..she doesn’t give a rip about shoes. Not at all.

I have given her pairs of my retired shoes to play dress up through the year. I remembered how much I loved trying on Mom’s. She would take each pair and place it her closet.

Then she never looked at them again.

When she was a baby she had every color shoe in the rainbow. What is more fun than buying baby shoes? She hated them all. She would always find a way to get them off her feet before we even arrived at our destination.

As she got older I would ask for her input. Which shoes did she want? What color did SHE like? She always shrugged. I could just pick for her. She didn’t really care.

Last year I surprised her with not one but TWO pairs of boots for the fall. There wasn’t so much as a gleam in her eye. There were no squeals of delight. No tearing the lid off of the boxes to see what was inside.

There was just “Thanks Mom.”

One day everything seemed to be changing. While in the girls department where I was prepared to once again pick new shoes without her feedback, she surprised me.

She came to me with a cute little teal blue sandal. And not just any sandal. It was a wedge. My big girl wanted her very first wedge. My heart was aflutter.

Of course she should have them. How could I deny her very first shoe crush? I was going to make it happen.

I paid for the shoes and she carried the box out of the store. It was a beautiful day.

When we got home she put the box in her closet. Where it sat, day after day collecting dust. Why did she not want to wear her shoes? Her first pair of big girl shoes?

Because they hurt her feet. And she couldn’t run in them.

Oh well. Maybe she had only tried to love shoes for me. Maybe she wanted to make me happy.

Whatever the case shoes aren’t her thing. Not yet anyway. There is plenty of time for that later. Or not. Whatever makes her happy. One day she will find HER art.

But don’t think she’s going to sashay into my closet when she’s an 8 and a half, wanting to wear my shoes then. Too bad, so sad.

My amazing celebrity style dream closet will feature a fancy fingerprint scanner which must be activated for entry. Only my fingerprint will work.

Did you hear that, Universe?

This post is dedicated to Carol. Thanks for the idea :)

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