The Significance of the Seven Shoes.

voltee ♦ June 12, 2014 ♦ 3 Comments

Item: Dress. Color/Fabric: Blue/pink multi/Polyester. Designer: Say What? (No, really, that’s the name) Where Purchased: The Salvation Army. Years Owned: 5ish

I love this dress. I found this at Uncle Sal’s, myy most favorite thrift store, with my amazing fashionista friend Lisa. I don’t usually go for knit dresses, since I’m not a big fan of my booty (read here for more info about that). But I really liked the retro style and the colors of this one, and it seemed a little Missoni-esque.
So I took a chance. And I’ve worn it on a few occasions.
The most important was when I wore it to an estate sale.
I don’t know why I wore this to an estate sale. I remember thinking that I wanted to throw on a sweet summer dress, comfy for shopping and cute enough to wear to the theater later. A great idea, but I don’t think this is quite the dress for that. It’s a little too fussy.
But I was with my mom, who said, “There’s nothing wrong with being the best dressed girl at the garage sale. But you might not get the best bargains…”
Words to live by!
Anyway. I have briefly written about this particular yard sale, and the greatest treasure I found there (here). I even mentioned the seven pairs of shoes I gave a good home to from there.
But I did not mention the Significance of the Seven Shoes.
It’s a sad tale that has been on my mind, very frequently these days.
It begins when my mother and I were slowly meandering through piles of junk outside. A woman approached me, staring thoughtfully at my feet.
“What size of shoe do you wear?” she asked.
A strange question, from a stranger. “Five and a half or six,” I answered hesitantly.
She looked up at me and smiled. “Follow me.”
I glanced at my mother, who was wearing the same slightly baffled expression as I was. I shrugged, and we followed the woman into the house.
It was an old house, filled with many well-loved treasures. But she took us to a room that absolutely took my breath away. Rack upon rack upon rack of clothing stood in middle of the room and the walls were lined with shoe boxes. All four walls. All the way up.
As I stood there staring, gape-mouthed, heart thumping wildly, the woman explained. “My mother wore the same size as you. All of these shoes are new, never worn. Look around and try some on!”
Well, what could I do? I tried on shoes.
I could have easily brought home at least fifty pairs. But I showed restraint! I whittled it down to a mere seven pairs! Including my favorite, these shiny, patent leather Cole Haans:

The moment I saw these, I knew we were destined to be together. Forever! They are my ruby slippers, and I cherish them.
But as I tried and considered and rejected and saved, the woman began to tell us a little of her mother’s tale. She had passed away recently. At 56.
She was a nurse who loved clothes, and jewelry, and shoes. She fell in love with pieces and bought them and saved them for special occasions.
Occasions which never came. When she got breast cancer, it attacked quickly and thoroughly.
The woman looked around at all the splendors before us. “I wish she had had a chance to wear all of these.”
I did, too. I suddenly felt terrible, as though I was taking advantage of an awful situation. I felt like the shoes were sacred, like I shouldn’t even touch them.
But the woman smiled at me. “She would be glad that you’re here. She would want them to be enjoyed. I wish that I could, but my feet are too big. It’s wonderful that you wear the same size,” she told me.
And I realized that she was right. And I loved this woman’s mother, with her eclectic taste, with her leopard coats and well made shoes, with her tiger’s eye rings and Victorian blouses.
I have always had a hard time with saving things for the perfect occasion, which I’ve previously written about here.
And now I think of this faceless, nameless woman (I can’t believe that I did not ask her name!), and I think of the Seven Shoes, and I tell myself , “Do not wait.”
Always wear the blouse. Always wear the shoes. Enjoy them and love them, and rejoice in the wearing!
It’s a lesson that I’m not done learning. I still have way, WAY too many pieces with tags still on them.
But still, there is a refrain I can’t let go of. Every day, every hour, every second, every breath. Life. Love. Beauty. Joy.
It’s all a gift!
Be nothing but grateful.