Oo, I had those braces with the metal bar as a child too. Kind of a torture device. And we must have grown up around the same time, as I remember and had most of those shoes.... Thanks for making me laugh!
Definitely a torture device! And I bet most of us “of a certain age” share a lot of shoe history. There are some styles I’m glad we’ve said goodbye to!
Leslie, I love how this piece uses shoes as a way of telling a much larger story about identity, memory, and the different versions of ourselves we inhabit over time. Each pair feels less like an accessory and more like a marker on the map of a life: the patent Mary Janes, the ballet slippers, the Famolares, the wedding shoes, even the orthopedic inserts. I found myself smiling at the humor throughout, but beneath it is a lovely recognition that our possessions often become repositories of memory, carrying entire seasons of life long after the moments themselves have passed. Thank you for sharing a memoir that begins with shoes and ends somewhere much deeper.
You always have the most insightful and meaningful commentary. And you are spot on. We can tell our story through so many lenses: shoes, clothes, pets, homes, art—the list is pretty endless.
Leslie, I think that is exactly what makes pieces like yours so resonant. The shoes may be the organizing thread, but what readers are really encountering is a life told through the objects that quietly accompanied it. What struck me is that each pair carried more than a function; they carried a season, a relationship, a hope, a milestone, or a change in identity. In that sense, shoes become much like homes, photographs, recipes, pets, or pieces of art: tangible artifacts that preserve chapters of a story long after the chapter itself has ended. Thank you for reminding us that some of the most meaningful memoirs emerge not from extraordinary events alone, but from ordinary objects that have traveled faithfully with us through the years.
My best shoe story: I once wore for several hours (to a restaurant and some stores) two different pair of shoes. They did not look anything alike, but most astonishing, they had different heel heights! I kept wondering why the people in the restaurant kept glancing at me. When I finally noticed, I literally slunk out of the store as surreptitiously as possible. I was mortified!
Oh my, that’s hilarious. Surprised you didn't get a weird backache or something from your hips being out of alignment. Knowing me, I would have tripped and fallen. I haven’t worn two separate shoes out and about (that I know of) but I have accidentally worn my house shoes (rubber slip-on sandals) out of the house with a regular “outside the home” outfit.
Black and white saddle oxfords! Clogs! Penny loafers! Ah, and all of the dance shoes. Thank you for addressing all the ways we dress up the stages of our lives. (Thank goodness your feet were straightened out so early on, although I’m sorry for the barbaric memory.)
I also have a complicated relationship with footwear, beginning with my parents putting me into tight, ill-fitting hard-as-rock shoes in childhood (they thought 'sturdy'was good for kids back then!) and going through most of my life with nothing ever fitting properly, only to find out at age 70 that my feet are two different sizes and shapes and unusually high arches and insteps - crazy stuff but at least now I know what will work! I was repulsed by all footwear and used to go barefoot whenever possible, including outdoors, but I can no longer do that due to medical limitations. It has taken a toll in many ways ... it's difficult maintaining stability in life when we don't have two comfortable feet to stand on 😜. Thanks for the post and that photo is hilarious.
Yay, I’ve actually found another Texas-raised girl who hasn’t owned boots. I feel a little more acceptable. My kids have. Even my Swedish husband has. But I haven’t and now it’s become a thing and I’m not sure I’m allowed at this point. 😅 Fun walk down memory lane. Thanks!
Hello! I often say I’m surprised my Texan card hasn’t been revoked. I don’t own cowboy boots, I hate country music, I’m not Christian, and I’m vegetarian. 😂
This was a joy to read! Thanks for a fun trip down memory lane!
Thank you, Susan. It was fun to write. If only our shoes could talk…oh, the stories they would tell!
Oo, I had those braces with the metal bar as a child too. Kind of a torture device. And we must have grown up around the same time, as I remember and had most of those shoes.... Thanks for making me laugh!
Definitely a torture device! And I bet most of us “of a certain age” share a lot of shoe history. There are some styles I’m glad we’ve said goodbye to!
Love this esay, very funny and relatable.
Thanks so much, Sandra! I know we all have our shoe stories.
Leslie, I love how this piece uses shoes as a way of telling a much larger story about identity, memory, and the different versions of ourselves we inhabit over time. Each pair feels less like an accessory and more like a marker on the map of a life: the patent Mary Janes, the ballet slippers, the Famolares, the wedding shoes, even the orthopedic inserts. I found myself smiling at the humor throughout, but beneath it is a lovely recognition that our possessions often become repositories of memory, carrying entire seasons of life long after the moments themselves have passed. Thank you for sharing a memoir that begins with shoes and ends somewhere much deeper.
You always have the most insightful and meaningful commentary. And you are spot on. We can tell our story through so many lenses: shoes, clothes, pets, homes, art—the list is pretty endless.
Leslie, I think that is exactly what makes pieces like yours so resonant. The shoes may be the organizing thread, but what readers are really encountering is a life told through the objects that quietly accompanied it. What struck me is that each pair carried more than a function; they carried a season, a relationship, a hope, a milestone, or a change in identity. In that sense, shoes become much like homes, photographs, recipes, pets, or pieces of art: tangible artifacts that preserve chapters of a story long after the chapter itself has ended. Thank you for reminding us that some of the most meaningful memoirs emerge not from extraordinary events alone, but from ordinary objects that have traveled faithfully with us through the years.
My best shoe story: I once wore for several hours (to a restaurant and some stores) two different pair of shoes. They did not look anything alike, but most astonishing, they had different heel heights! I kept wondering why the people in the restaurant kept glancing at me. When I finally noticed, I literally slunk out of the store as surreptitiously as possible. I was mortified!
Oh my, that’s hilarious. Surprised you didn't get a weird backache or something from your hips being out of alignment. Knowing me, I would have tripped and fallen. I haven’t worn two separate shoes out and about (that I know of) but I have accidentally worn my house shoes (rubber slip-on sandals) out of the house with a regular “outside the home” outfit.
Black and white saddle oxfords! Clogs! Penny loafers! Ah, and all of the dance shoes. Thank you for addressing all the ways we dress up the stages of our lives. (Thank goodness your feet were straightened out so early on, although I’m sorry for the barbaric memory.)
So weird that that kind of treatment used to be a thing. My dad is a retired pediatrician and says that come to find out, it didn’t even work!
I also have a complicated relationship with footwear, beginning with my parents putting me into tight, ill-fitting hard-as-rock shoes in childhood (they thought 'sturdy'was good for kids back then!) and going through most of my life with nothing ever fitting properly, only to find out at age 70 that my feet are two different sizes and shapes and unusually high arches and insteps - crazy stuff but at least now I know what will work! I was repulsed by all footwear and used to go barefoot whenever possible, including outdoors, but I can no longer do that due to medical limitations. It has taken a toll in many ways ... it's difficult maintaining stability in life when we don't have two comfortable feet to stand on 😜. Thanks for the post and that photo is hilarious.
Yes, the older I get the more I realize how much we take our feet for granted! And weren’t the 70s and early 80s grand?!
Yay, I’ve actually found another Texas-raised girl who hasn’t owned boots. I feel a little more acceptable. My kids have. Even my Swedish husband has. But I haven’t and now it’s become a thing and I’m not sure I’m allowed at this point. 😅 Fun walk down memory lane. Thanks!
Hello! I often say I’m surprised my Texan card hasn’t been revoked. I don’t own cowboy boots, I hate country music, I’m not Christian, and I’m vegetarian. 😂
But don’t you love Lyle Lovett? Please say you do.
I have no aversion to him. I just don’t really listen to him….. I’m just more of an indie/electronic/French pop/classic crooners girl.
You’d probably be ok in Austin 😅
I do love Austin. But I’m in Fort Worth.
Also a fun place! We lived in Lantana for a long time.
Fun read, Leslie. As always. I stuffed my feet into too-small pumps for years and am now paying for it.
The ways we abuse our feet are just the tip of the iceberg of how we abuse our bodies, right?!