Utterly silly minor obsession

Utterly silly minor obsession

There is another (new)fashion rehash. The slouch boot. I was in high school when this became a new wave fashion deal in the 80s. I didn’t make too much money either working at Bob’s big boy as a hostess (I was a horrible waitress) or Red Lobster (same deal, and they took me away from the kitchen after I cut myself and squirted blood all over the hush puppies)or as a cashier at the movie theatre. I think I made around $250 every two weeks, sometimes more, sometimes less. It wasn’t all my money to spend but there was some.

I was on a trip with some friends to buy records (yes) and go to The Crystal Pistol, a punk club in Tulsa. L and I (and sometimes her sister and M) looked at clothes and shoes too. The kind it was easier to get in a bigger city, because Tulsa was more metropolitan than Fayetteville (didn’t prepare me for moving to San Francisco a couple of years later, but it was a small introduction). There were a couple of places in Fayetteville to get cool new wave clothes and of course vintage dresses were always perfect (though I didn’t learn to wear them as well as the Sisters did until a few years later)but the shoe choice was decidedly lacking

On one trip, was it to see Square Force and did I have a crush on Lee then? I found the perfect and most amazing pair of boots ever. The boots that are destined to become distinct markers of a time in your life.THE boots, the personality boots, the ones you put on when you feel good, feel bad or need to wallow in either one of those. The ones that make you feel fae or gorgeous or cool or brilliant. I’ve had a few of those over time. Once was my first pair of paratrooper boots with a thick black sole. I wore them completely out and had them resoled and wore those out. They made me feel strong and fierce. Another pair were pointy pixie boots with skull buckles. I still have those though I’ve not put them on in ten years. Well I have, but they haven’t left the house. Of course I became spooky and mysterious immediately when putting them on. The jingle when I walked made me dance down the street. I have a perfect pair of Victorian boots too, that J bought me. I’m his dark lady in those and will keep them forever, no matter how er, undark I am now. Other pairs mark other times and some I’ve passed along, while others I can’t and keep hoping they’ll last until the Bean’s feet are that big.

But this pair, this pair I’m trying to duplicate? Fuschia pixie slouch boots. $40. A large amount at the time. A HUGE amount at the time. A distinct hot pinkish color with enough purple to go with or clash well with nearly anything. They made me feel nimble, fae and very new wave. I love the look of the pointy little slouch boots, but keep telling myself I won’t buy until I find some just like what I had. And the chances of that are small. That color I’ve never seen again. That perfect pointy front, rolled top and flat square heel are nowhere all in one boot. I’ll never find that one again.

Of course I won’t because it isn’t the boot I’m looking for, it’s the feeling. I’m guessing rarely, in the shoe crazy type of person, that it is just the shoe or boot, it’s the feeling. The feeling that you become a bit more of this or that or the other thing you need to be when you put them on. The perfect black heel you need when going to an office party–the one that speaks of your ambition and your strength. The boot that helps you walk down a dangerous Tenderloin street at night or the high top tennis shoe that says ‘yes, I am a mom, but I’ve still got a sense of humor.”

I can’t really explain my cat shoes , I’m just crazy that way.

I’ll never find those boots, but I will find the feeling. I want to dance and sing again, more and often. I want to wear bright colors and laugh too loud. I feel the shell cracking but it’s tough and the fissure runs in different directions, over and around. Do I start here? Or here?

And if I can’t find the fuschia pixie slouch boots with the perfect dancing heel–well then, I wonder what the next pair will be and why.

Oh, see I’m not loony:

–This short entry took hours, the Bean is home sick again today, I am only slightly crazy from princess movies, pikachu (not *so* bad) and playing playdough. I would also like to get dressed in something other than sweatpants and put on some makeup. Here’s hoping she feels better tomorrow. Three days in the house with a sickly, stir crazy Bean will make anyone a little loopy.—

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