Ah, my first love

A man's Self is the sum total of all that he can call his.
--William James, 1890

This quote strikes me as speaking directly to American consumerism. I'll admit, I'm not immune to it. As some of you may know, I have a shoe collection. For serious collectors, its a modest collection (46 at current count), but its still obvious when standing in my apartment. Yes, some are strewn around the studio floor, but its in looking at the shelving unit separating the 'living space' from the 'sleeping space' (those of you who live in NYC studios know what I'm talking about) that one becomes aware. Four out of the twelve shelves are taken up by either shoe boxes or loose pairs.

I blame (or credit) my mother for what some may call a problem? an obsession? a worthwhile investment? Growing up, every year my mother would take my two sisters and I shoe shopping. Being a very pragmatic woman, shoe shopping with her as a child was about 180 degrees from shoe shopping as the adult me. Shoe shopping would consist of replacing the oxblood oxfords that were good for growing feet. Sometimes we could break out and get some sensible Mary Janes. See Buster Brown ad to the left.

On one of these trips, I saw something different. I saw what I wanted. I imagined wearing them all the time. They were a pair of turquoise blue, patent leather, Mary Janes. Three straps, fastened with snaps. To my eight year old self, these were the height of fashion. I brought over the sample shoe to my mother and told her that I wanted to try them on. She shot me down, and listed the reasons as to why these were not a proper purchase. These reasons, I don't remember. I do remember the shoes.

I think I was in college when I bought my first pair of shoes with my own money. It was in Georgetown, and I bought my first pair of Dr. Martens. Funny enough, they were oxblood in color. They were 8-eyelet boots. I wore them all through college, and they moved with me to San Francisco. I think they eventually fell apart.

My latest pair I got at DSW a couple of days ago. They are a pair of 3" high Calvin Klein silver wedges. Two straps, one across the toes, one across the front of the ankle. The wedge is a stacked wooded heel, the sole is lined with a beige linen which has a silver thread woven through it, and is a lovely contrast with the thick silver straps.

Over the span of 20 years, that's quite a lot of shoes, and quite an evolution. Below are the stories of some of my favorites.

FLUEVOG
VARIOUS STYLES ACQUIRED: 1995-1999
I discovered Fluevog's while living in San Francisco. Although all Fluevog's are all distinctive, there share a quality of craftsmanship that is somewhat unparalleled. On a lot of their models, the detailing goes right to the sole, where there would be a design that could be left behind you (Campers seem to have followed in this tradition). I've had three pairs. Fluevog's have a following, and Firefly, a great shoe store down in Raleigh (unfortunately, RIP) curated an exhibit at their store in 2007 of previous shoes, collected from their customers. I didn't have time to send mine in, but I sent photos.

The first pair I owned were a gift from my friend Jody. He got them at Villains on Haight Street. I had seen them when we were out shopping one day, and he picked them up for my birthday. I loved the big buckle! They reminded me of pilgrim shoes, or what we were told the footwear of the pilgrims looked like. I wore these a lot when I lived in San Francisco.

The second pair I bought were also purchased at Villains. This place always had a great sale going on, and they always seemed to have my size. My friend Heidi had recently gotten a similar pair, and when I saw her's, I was immediately envious of her purchase. They were very baroque looking, and her's were baby pink patent leather. I walked into Villains one day, and there they were, the same style in lime green suede. In my size. I bought them without question.

The third pair I bought here. It was right before the Millennium, and Heidi and I were hosting a New Year's Eve party. There was still an air of not knowing if all computer systems were going to shut down, and what would happen at the chime of midnight. Would we return to the dark ages? Would we dance to Prince and just forget about it all? I think most people thought if there were any glitches, we'd just have a couple of leisurely days off before the computer geniuses figured it all out, and life returned to normal. I for one, was looking for a unique pair of shoes to go with my black dress. I immediately headed to the Fluevog store on Prince Street. I'm looking, I'm looking, and then I spot a great pair. Leather strappy sandals on wooden platforms like geisha shoes. Perfect for a December/January party, at least one that you were hosting, and didn't have to leave the house. Midnight passed without incident, and I still have these shoes.

PRADA, WEDGE HEELED ANKLE BOOTS
ACQUIRED BARNEY'S WAREHOUSE SALE, WINTER 1999
I had just moved to New York to attend Columbia for Grad School the previous summer, and this was the first time I went to the annual Barney's sale. Bernardo and I had made a plan to go, he wanted to get a suit (Prada or Hugo Boss) and I went just to see the crazy atmosphere. I had heard stories of no dressing rooms, women disrobing in the middle of aisles to try on the discounted wares. After walking through the rows and rows of clothes, nothing really catching my eye, I headed for the shoes, aisle of size 9. I couldn't believe it. There they were, a pair of Prada boots that I'd seen, probably in Vogue. They were marked down to $100 from $500. I tried them on - they fit. I've worn them only a couple of times, but still consider them one of the most beautiful pairs I've ever bought (they are a perfect example of the ridiculous adage that you have to suffer for fashion). The silky fabric, the line of the heel is a work of art. Bernardo didn't find a suit at the sale, so we headed down to Century 21. He found something proper and met his goal for the day, then we went to Windows on the World to end the day with drinks, something that unfortunately cannot be done anymore. I hold on to this pair for the memory of that day that they were purchased, and that time in my life.

MARC BY MARC JACOBS RUST COLORED SUEDE BOOTS ACQUIRED 2004
Overall, these are my favorite from the collection. The color and texture are amazing, and they make me really tall. They have a 4-inch stacked wooden heel, and cowboy boot details. To the left is a photo of me in the boots, rocking out during the company office party. My decision to buy these are murky, but I do believe it was done with the help of Carrie, otherwise known as The Enabler. These boots were going to stretch my budget, and there were questions raised, such as, "Will you regret not buying them? Will you always remember pining for them?" This line of questioning recalled my thoughts of the turquoise patent leather shoes of my childhood. I did not want to remember passing these by in my 60's.

These boots also have a certain power to them. These boots have brought a man to his knees. They have also made another man carry me for a couple of blocks since my feet were killing me. Sometimes, power is good.

I know that there are some of you out there scoffing at what you see as frivolity. You're allowed. Do I need these shoes? No. I'm well aware that no one needs nearly 50 pairs of shoes (give me to the end of the year, I may get there). In grad school while helping me move, friends called me Imelda. We all know who they were referring to. Out of all the excesses of Marcos - the second palace, the office tower in Manhattan, the charges of vote buying and election fraud, the ordering of martial law...what is remembered is the 2,700 pairs of shoes that had their own room. There's something about owning more shoes than you need that smacks of excess to some. I'm not going to claim that all my shoes have meaning, but there are a lot of them that carry a memory for me and are part of my history.