Spring came late this year. Many complained, but secretly I rejoiced. The onset of spring brought with it my promise to tackle the long overdue spring cleaning task that I have been putting off since 2009.
June’s rain and cooler temperatures forced me to face the demon and I began to slay the clothes closet dragon. As I weeded through the many generations of couture accumulated over the years, I realized that many things were no longer age appropriate. Shirts, slacks, skirts and dresses flew off hangers and landed in one of three piles: can’t wear, shouldn’t wear and not quite ready to wear. Easy, right?
My heart stopped when I got to the back of the closet. Peeking out from the hemlines was a pair of sandals. Not just any pair of sandals, these were hot. Smokin’ hot. Designer strappy sandals with 5” stiletto heels. Christened Science Fiction Shoes by my friend Vera (she said they looked like a prop from a science fiction movie), they became my constant companion one summer, carrying me from receptions and parties to clubs and beyond. Thrusting me into the stratosphere, they were responsible for many compliments and a night or two of passion. But these supernatural wonders had a dark side and their wickedness transcended their beauty. At the end of sandal season, I was hobbling around with plantar fasciitis and a torn meniscus that required surgery, both maladies being attributed to improper shoe proportions.
Vanity gave way to sensibility and the Science Fiction Shoes were cast aside. I know they need to find their way to a younger heel-wearing veteran. Each day they are moved closer and closer to the “can’t wear” pile and soon they will be gone.
As our relationship comes to a close, plans are being made to find a sensible pair of replacement shoes: most likely a designer pair of strappy sandals with 4” stiletto heels.
