Shoes

Underneath my coats is a big box of my shoes. This is in addition to the other shoes of mine that are in my room and still more that are in our hallway. Heels, flats, runners, rubber boots, sandals... I got it all. Unfortunately, many of these shoes never get worn because they are too small and thusly not worth my patience or pain standing. So I figured, why not finally weed through this bloody collection?


So I laid out all my shoes side by side and not only were there 44.5 pairs (one is missing it's mate and I love it too much to toss it) but they actually reached from my bedroom door all the way down the hall to the kitchen, and then some. Jesus! (This photo is showing about half the distance from the kitchen to my room.)


Not only did I have 44.5 pairs, but I also had two pairs of red heels, neither of which I could fit in. I have a lot of attachment to these things... some are just so beautiful that I have to keep them even though I never wear them (such is the case with a pair of t-strap black peep-toes that are straight outta the fifties). If I can't wear them then NO ONE ELSE WILL.

So then what happened? I whittled it down to about 28 pairs, consigned some and gave away the ugly ones, which left me with a lot more room in my conscience to go out and get more. I'm probably up to the mid-thirties again, but at least they're all nice and pretty and wearable. And I get all my shoes second-hand so it's not like I should feel guilty about spending money or anything. Shoes are important. And so is looking good. In your shoes. Yes.