Confessions of a shoeaholic

On the weekend, I went to not one, but two shoe sales.  Well the second one was technically a boot sale.  But yeah.  Footwear sales, if you will.  I’m not going to tell you how many pairs I bought or how much money I spent.  Let’s just say I may have gone a little crazy and I may end up on a future episode of Hoarders or Intervention.

A while ago, I was thinking about how a lot of people have 365 days of blogging type blogs.  One in particular is 365 Days of Dining.  That would have been my dream job.  Except that I write more about shoes than I do about food.  I considered the possibility of writing a 365 days of shoes blog.  Each day, I would post pictures of a different pair of shoes, describe them, and maybe talk about where/when I bought them, or a memory of one of the times I’ve worn them.  I’m not sure how many pairs of shoes I own.  Not 365.  But if I run out, I could always start taking pictures of other people’s shoes, or shoes that I see in a store.

The problem is, I’ve barely had time lately to write regular posts on this blog.  And that one time I attempted to start another blog, it failed.  I mean I did start a blog where I wrote about TV shows and movies but it only lasted four months because it was just impossible to keep up.  I would imagine a shoe blog would be easier to manage, seeing as I already have the shoes so half the work is already done.

I likely won’t pursue this idea because I know I probably won’t have time for it.  Also I’m sure if I were to do it, you would judge me.  You know, even more than you already do now.  Which I’m fine with.  My friend who accompanied with me to both shoe sales doesn’t judge me because our friendship is based upon no judgement.  Although I’ve realized that can be a dangerous thing if you happen to have an addictive personality.  She’s pretty much my enabler.  If she hadn’t driven me to Army & Navy and helped me carry my bags, I would not have been able to make the purchases that I did.

boots

Boots at the Army & Navy boot sale

As I sit here now, I’m not even wearing my new shoes or boots yet.  I’m wearing my old ones.  Which I love.  But the reason I’m not wearing new ones is because a lot of them are still sitting in the trunk of her car.  Because I couldn’t bring them all into the house at once because I didn’t want my family to see them.  When you start to hide things, is that the sign of a problem?  My friend said she would start calling me Imelda Marcos now and I informed her that my dad has been calling me that for years.  I’ll just blame it on Shoe Warehouse, my second mall job, because it was when I worked there that my love for shoes emerged into the chaotic mess it is today.

My friend who doesn’t judge me almost thought of staging an intervention.  But she decided against it since that would have been a form of judgement.  I guess when someone who doesn’t judge you wants to stage an intervention, that’s the sign of a problem.  But I’m not at the acceptance stage yet.  I think I’m still just in denial.  Which is an okay place to be.  I’m not sure what rock bottom looks like.  Perhaps it’s when I start going to sales by myself and buy more than I can carry?  Or when I fall and become buried under a pile of my own shoes and can’t escape?  Or when my Visa gets declined because I’ve maxed it out on shoes?  But none of those things have happened.  Yet.

At this point, I have cut myself off.  No more shoes.  Or boots.  Especially boots.  I bought a lot of boots.  I may force myself to return a couple pairs.  I felt total judgement was upon me the entire time I was shopping, both from the employees and from the other customers.  But I didn’t care.  Nothing mattered except the good deals I was getting on my boots.  And I justified it by the fact that some people spend a few hundred dollars on one pair, while I was getting several pairs at $50 or less per pair.  That makes sense, right?

We really should have gone to Army & Navy first.  If we had, I would have bought less at the shoe sale in Burnaby.  Or probably not even have gone to it.  But I was informed about it by friends and so I attended the shopping event at Gizeh Shriners Hall.  At first, I was complaining about the lack of size 8’s.  But then I proceeded to locate every size 8 I possibly could.  Let’s just say, these were not my proudest moments.  Saturday was an expensive day.

shoes

Shoes at the Burnaby shoe sale

But yes.  I am cut off.  No more footwear.  Unless it’s socks.  I’m always in need of more socks.  And that’s not an obsession, that’s just a necessity, since I’m constantly losing pairs every time I do laundry.  And I don’t think anyone ever went into debt from buying too many socks.  Although watch me somehow be the first.  But I’m not in debt and I will pay my Visa bill on time and I will refrain from buying anymore shoes or boots for a while.  I could probably get away with not buying anymore ever.  But for now I’ll just see how long I can wait.  Anyone want to place any bets on how long I can go without buying new shoes?  I promise if I win the bet, I won’t spend the money on footwear.

My boot broke

Say that ten times fast.  Actually I guess it’s not that difficult as a tongue twister.  But it’s an awful thing when it happens in reality.  The zipper on my left boot had been causing a bit of trouble for quite some time.  But we were able to make it work.  Part of me knew it was only a matter of time before it would all fall apart.  But I wanted to make it last as long as I possibly could and to cherish the time we had left, however fleeting.

My brown boots

I’ve had these boots for about four years, so they have had a very good run.  Or a good walk, I suppose would be more appropriate.  I didn’t do a whole lot of running while wearing them, unless you count running for the bus, which I suppose does add up over time.  They’ve lasted longer than expected, longer than any boot before them.  I can’t remember if it’s been four years or five.  I bought them in either 2007 or 2008.  All I know is that they were purchased during my time working at Shoe Warehouse.

Ever since working at Shoe Warehouse, I’ve come to appreciate footwear.  These boots were one of my greatest finds.  I bought them on sale in the clearance section.  But being in clearance does not mean they were low quality.  They are Santanas, which is a Canadian brand that I’d never heard of.  But they are leather and waterproof.  And comfortable.  It’s so hard to find a good boot that is all of those things and looks good as well.

Haven't seen this brand again

This was back when I was against rain boots.  And by rain boots I mean gum boots.  I wanted something more grown up and stylish.  And these were them.  I could always count on them for protection when it rained or when it snowed.  And even if it didn’t rain, they still worked with many outfits.  I had a pair of black boots, but they weren’t waterproof.  And they didn’t last as long.  The zipper broke on those about a year or two ago.  I still miss them.

And now it’s time for me to say goodbye to these brown ones as well. Why? The zipper finally broke. They always do. I really have a love hate relationship with zippers. I love them and they hate me. And that’s just how it is. I’ve lost count of the number of items I’ve had to part with due to broken zippers.

I wasn’t even going to wear these boots today.  I considered normal shoes, but then I heard it would rain.  So then I considered my red rain boots, but then I didn’t think it would rain that much.  Obviously I was wrong.  But I swear the sun was shining a little when I left the house.  And I didn’t want to look stupid wearing rain boots on a sunny day, as I’ve done in the past.  These brown boots have served me well whatever the weather.  Plus, if I happened to walk through mud, you couldn’t tell since they’re brown.

The zipper was bound to break eventually.  But of course it would happen early in the day, on a day like today when I so badly needed them.  And of course it would break while I was at work.  At least the zipper on my black boots had the decency to break before I left the house, allowing me time to change my footwear before venturing outside.  Maybe the brown boots felt that I had taken them for granted, and they wanted to teach me a lesson before they finally kicked the bucket.

I used tape to keep it together

When the zipper came apart, I didn’t have many options.  It’s not as if I had a spare pair of boots with me at the time.  I needed something to fasten it together, or it would just flop down and not stay on properly.  So I used tape.  A lot of tape.  Which worked surprisingly well for a while.  And no one noticed unless I pointed it out to them.  Why would I point it out?  I don’t know, as a conversation starter?  Because I wanted someone to acknowledge the misfortune I was going through?  Because I just felt like it?

I used scotch tape while at work and then packing tape when I left.  Somehow I feel like the scotch tape worked better.  I’m pretty sure on my way home people noticed the tape that was hanging on for dear life in desperate attempt to do what a zipper once did.  It was clear tape, but still.  At least I made it home.  But it saddens me to know that I will never wear them again.  I’ll never find that kind of quality at that good a price again.  I curse that zipper for ending our time together before I was ready.

My boot is dead