On a sunny Southern California day in January, the month we moved to Chicago, I took a trip to an outlet mall outside of the city. I was there to find coats, gloves, scarves and other winter weather gear. We were ill prepared for the freezing temps of Chicago and I had to stock up fast or face hypothermia and/or freeze our tuckuses off. Thanks to Eddie Bauer’s subzero line I was over-prepared for the snow in one stop and I even bought unnecessary hand warmers that one uses for skiing and car lock deicers that I never used. But since I was already there at the outlet mall, I thought I would do a little more shopping just to see what I could see. What I saw was a beautiful and delicate pair of black lace pumps at Cole Haan’s outlet store. I knew, at once, that they were highly impractical. I also knew that I didn’t have a life that required much in the way of evening shoes. However I fell in love and I was feeling that wonderful “we are moving out of L.A. ” dream come true feeling and everything felt like it was coming up roses and that soon all our wishes would come true. And since the shoes were on sale, I, without too much rationalization, bought them.
The Cole Haan black lace pumps went in a moving van across the country and they, unworn, found a home in my Lake Bluff closet. The entire time that we lived in Chicago an occasion never arose in which these lacy shoes were needed. They stayed in their box patiently waiting for the day when they would have their time in the sun( or the snow). The day never came.
Two years later we moved to Austin and once again the shoes were moved by big and brawny men who had no idea that within a plain brown box was a sleeping Cinderella waiting for its ball. The shoes moved into a large mirrored closet. They were put to the back of the closet with the Uggs, snow boots and other shoes that were unlikely to be used in Texas. Every now and then when a shoe would go missing, I would in an act of desperation go through all of my shoes boxes to see if that wayward sandal might have magically transmogrified into one of the back row boxes. When I opened the Cole Haan box I would be met with a paradoxical perfume of beauty, sadness, unlived life, unrealized dreams and a whiff of shoe-never-worn scent( kind of like new car scent, only not as powerful). This heady mix would always make me pause and throw me off the scent of the missing sandal. Slowly and gently I would wrap the shoes in their original tissue as if tucking a small child into bed. I would say a silent prayer as I closed the lid on the unworn shoes, the prayer was so silent that I don’t even now the words. I feel sure there were words of hope and prayers that maybe things would change and maybe we would have a happy ending and that maybe one day soon I would have that feeling I had when we were moving away from L.A.
When we moved back to Los Angeles the shoes came with me. This time they made the trip in a U-haul that He-weasel and his father drove back from Austin. They, unlike some other shoes that never made it back to L.A., arrived back to the state I bought them from—still unworn. And for the last two years these shoes have sat in my closet. They were perched on a ledge in my closet that is so high that I can’t reach them on my own. I keep things there that I never use, it is a perch for the once loved or sentimental objects that I cannot bring myself to abandon.
For the last several weeks I have been going through my closet. Because of all the weight I lost the majority of the items in my closet no longer fit me. So I have been playing a slow game of: trash, donate or alter. It is a game that I am not very good at. I tend to put all my eggs into the donate pile and a few into the trash and so far only two items have made it into the alter pile. It is, I can tell you, a bit disheartening to see so many items that I were sure were investment pieces not make the grade to take them to the tailor. They just, somehow, look kind of sad. I tell myself that as I play this game of wardrobe solitaire that I would be better off to let these pieces go and find new ones. I am not sure if that is the case, but it is what I have convinced myself of.
Yesterday I filled two large moving boxes with clothes that are off to the Goodwill. I try to remind myself that maybe my trash is someone else’s treasure and then I further comfort myself with the possibility of tax write offs. After going through skirts, dresses and trousers I didn’t have the heart or energy to take on tops, sweaters and jackets. You see, I have to try on each garment and stand in front of the mirror and ask myself what the hell I ever saw in this garment. It is aerobically and metaphysically exhausting. I did, I thought, have the energy to go through a few shoes. The red Ugg loafers that had been an obvious mistake from the first time I wore them, they would go. Also the Merrill suede athletic shoes that I bought in San Francisco when my blistered feet would take not one more step unless I surrendered to the hell of a comfort/walking shoes, it was time to say goodbye to them.
I looked up to the Cole Haan pumps and I climbed the tower to fetch Cinderella from her half-decade nap. I removed them from their box and put them on my feet. As I looked down I was aghast at the pointedness of the toe. The shoes, in their sleep, had become stiffer, harder and more brittle. My feet begged to be released from them. Neurons fired, synapses charged with electric impulses and my feet used its impressive power to communicate by telling me in no uncertain terms that we would never be wearing these shoes. Never, were its words. I knew that my feet and brain were right. And I was surprised that my heart wasn’t in them anymore. I didn’t love them, not at all. I did, however, feel a kind of sadness. I knew the shoes were going to the Goodwill.
The shoes are now in the trunk of my car, them and all the other unwanted items. And when I think about what it will feel like to drop that box and get my receipt and drive away from those shoes, I feel sad. I feel sad for all the dreams unfulfilled and that I am here and that we didn’t have children and that I feel all out of dreams, and that I am sort of okay with that( which may be the saddest part of all). For a second the image and the feelings are too much and I want to ask He-weasel drop them, however hat feels like bad faith. I feel like I have to do this. These are my shoes/ my dreams and that I have to say goodbye to them. I, in an attempt to rationalize my grief, tell myself that maybe some young girl going to prom would love what I could not. She would find these unworn diamonds among all the other stinky shoes and feel that she was terribly lucky to find such treasures. Maybe she wil take these shoes to the ball and she would have a happy ending.
Oh Pumpkin I love this post! What a great feminine tale on the heartbreaking dilemma of wardrobe clearing. So different from the male scenario of ‘that doesn’t fit any more’ or ‘it’s worn out’ or the occasional wry grin and muttered disbelief.
Such grief, such pathos, such self inflicted heartache in a relationship blemished only by the odd pecuinary thought of tax write offs to come…..
Perhaps they will take a Cinderella to a ball and stand in silent witness as she kisses a frog she thinks is a prince……
or perhaps they will pinch in resentment at being torn out of a quiet life and forced to blink in the harsh light of day as they look at the clothes they are asked to match and find that what is above is actually beneath them.
Oh well. Life goes on…..
lol
I am guessing it is a rare bloke who holds onto a pair of shoes because they allow him to dream.
I hope, if my shoes go to the ball that they will protect the gal from falling for a frog in prince clothing.
I love your expansion of the fairy tale. You can write!
I would imagine if he does hold on to anything it would be a pair of football boots!
{and of course it would most probably be one pair and not as I suspect the multiples that could be found in little corners across the globe}
Two things: Oh how I wish those were my size, they’re stunning.
And, I think we all have items like this that we fall in love with but that never quite work. But you’re clearing out your closets to make room for happier memories.
You’re not a 9.5/10? Too bad.:-(
I do feel like I am making space for something. That waiting space between letting go and something else coming in can be a bit frightening. But I am making the space.
It is always sad to say goodbye to old dreams…but you will dream new dreams my dear, and happy surprises will come your way soon too.
Hugs!
Thank you, lovely. Hugs to you.
First thing I thought when I saw the picture was: Ouch! Pointy!
Second thing I thought was: What an inspiration she is…I am definitely going to begin going through my closet (as I promised myself in December).
I hope some girl who has never had items of extravagance comes upon these before other any other lady who has owned lovely things throughout her life. Those Cinderella shoes could have the capacity to turn a dreaming waif into a dreamy, confident babe. How exciting to think of the results.
Yeah, they are seriously pointy. My feet of today do not enjoy. My feet of 5 years ago didn’t mind the point.
I am happy to inspire your closet clear.
I seriously hope that the shoes go to a Cinderella and not to an evil step sister.
This is one of the best pieces I have read. It is as if each word effortlessly flowed through you, and at the same time was picked with the utmost care. Each word holds its own beauty and impact. I am really blown away with this, and wish I could write something this fantastic. Great, great writing.
Thank you so much. I am so pleased that it read as effortless and full of care. That is high praise. And you are very kind to see it is inspirational. Really, Davida, thank you.
Is it bad that I feel a little sad for the pretty heals that never got worn? You have some good taste in shoes!
When I read this to He-weasel he panicked and said, “You can’t get rid of those shoes”. He felt sad for them.
Thanks, Jen.:-)
When I opened the Cole Haan box I would be met with a paradoxical perfume of beauty, sadness, unlived life, unrealized dreams and a whiff of shoe-never-worn scent( kind of like new car scent, only not as powerful). This is not only brilliant writing, but describes more than a few purchases I’ve made over the years to a T. We buy the shoes (bag/dress) for the fantasy. I’ve had that similar “what was I thinking?? experience when going through my closet.
I hope your feeling of sadness lifts when you drop off that box, and you get to that wonderful feeling of lightness that comes from clearing out both physically and metaphysically that which no longer fits you or your life.
Thanks so much, Deja. Your generous compliment is greatly appreciated. And I feel sure that most women have bought items under the influence of a dream. That isn’t always a bad thing. But knowing who we are and why want an object and whether that object can fulfill that dream is important to ferret out.
Oh, I see this as a happy post – not a sad one at all!
To me, you are shedding the limitations of dreams that were mistakenly assigned to you in favor of your true ones and, in the process, putting those props out into the world to find their true owners, who will be thrilled to have them!
If it makes you feel any better, we have ALL bought those pointy Cinderella shoes…and eventually we ALL give them away.
It’s all good.
XO
A.
You had Cinderella shoes too? I guess that is why resale and thrift shops exist. I would be curious what percentage of the items are Cinderella and which are ordinary objects. Hmmm….
Thanks, lovely!xo
Before I moved to this college town after completing grad school I purged my closet. I cannot believe that I gave Valentino shoes (too-tight black lace) as well as outrageous ensembles like teal suede skirt/suede and knit sweater as well as a Frank Usher tapestry skirt suit away. But I guess that they represented an earlier time and it was time to move forward. I wish your Cole Haan shoes well and am confident that they will find a home.
Any regrets about giving them up? Or do you feel mostly good about letting these objects go?
If only I could know the final story of these shoes, that would be lovely.
So interesting. I would see those shoes as a released burden – something that you bought for your imaginary self, never wore, and have now quite wisely jettisoned. You’re more self-aware now, stronger, and you know what you love and what you need. Pointy-toed, stiff, black lace shoes aren’t what you need.
You are a glass half-full girl. Love that about you! I like your version of the story.
I’m glad to hear that you didn’t part with your extensive black t-shirt collection.
Are you projecting?;-)
Lovely post. Truly. It really is a difficult thing, to say goodbye to unfulfilled dreams/hopes and often those hopes are made more abruptly apparent in the things we own from our past. This really makes me think of your thesis and brilliant insights about the psychology of fashion. It also makes me think of Proust and that damn madeleine! Maybe the lovely lacy pump is indeed a symbol of lost hope. Or, maybe those shoes never were you and now that you are peeling back those layers of self, you realize that and can let go. Still, letting go is never an easy thing.
WHere would we writers be without associative memory??? I love how each object tells a story. That said, it makes the hoarding phenomenon sort of understandable. If ones stories only live in objects then it must be hard to let go of objects. My lace shoes. Proust’s madeleines. Everyone has a version, I suppose.
I think you are right on. These shoes never were me. And there is loss in that too.:-(
Your post today is so touching… Buying dreams and fairy tales…
We all do that at some point, don’t we?
We can’t change where life takes us… But we can always have a closetful of illusions…
Loads of love. XXX
It seems that we all do.
And I love what you said, “We can’t change where life takes us… But we can always have a closetful of illusions.” You are a poet.
Loads of love back to you.xoxo
I feel such passion in this post…you put so much of yourself out there for us to see.
We all have something like your Cinderella shoes…and now that you have let go of what doesn’t work there will be room…for new garments to adorn your svelte new figure. I say shopping starts now!
I am so pleased if you feel my passion. Thank you for saying so.
My closet looks so lean and mean. It is ready for some lovely new things. But this time I am going to be super picky.
Such an evocative post. While I understand your sorrow for what never came to be, I’d say there’s much to rejoice about here in all that new psychic closet space, the clearer awareness of who you are and what truly suits your life. And the gumption to let go, something many of us take far too long to muster. Bravo!
Thank you, Mater. It is so lovely to have, the good and the hopeful and the potential in all this, mirrored. Gumption. Nice. Thank you for that. I do have a bit of that. I am taking that adjective into my psychic closet and holding onto that.
I love this post, those shoes. I am sad that you are ok with being all out of dreams. That is so sad.
It is. But as others said, I hope and imagine that maybe a new dream will weasel its way in. That would be nice.
This post sums up so much for me. It is so beautifully written. I, too, am clearing out my closet with the hopes of making room for the new. It is so enlightening to look through our purchases and reflect on what we were thinking and feeling about ourselves and our lives at that time. Apparel selection is so much more than dressing our bodies. I hope that as I make new purchases, I remember your post and the comments it elicited.
Thank you, RL, for this comment and for your post. I love the circularity of the inspiration that happens. Your post that you wrote about this one has inspired another one in me. Thank you.
When I was doing my thesis on clothing and its place in psychotherapy I was constantly asking myself each time I saw anyone, “What were they thinking when they bought that?” What was the narrative of that purchase?” I asked it a lot of others and yet didn’t take the time to ask myself.
The gardeners out here (and yes, I am one) are wont to think of pruning.
It’s scary to prune, until you realize that plants love it and respond to it by flourishing.
Wonderful metaphor, Jean. Thank you.:-)
Someone will love the shoes. And you, I have no doubt, will have some other dreams. The ones we don’t realize are sad, that sadness stays, but it does leave room for new dreams.
I want them to be loved. It would be so very sad if they weren’t. I am always so sad to see unbought Christmas trees sitting in the lots after Christmas. That unlived potential always gets to me.
Wonderful!
I have been hanging on for YEARS to a pair of lace-up Cole Haan boots. Very Victorian, very Steampunk.
I should take them out tonight and if they are not fabulous on me, shine them and put them in the Unitarian Church rummage bag. One of the Retro Punk girls will put them to good use.
I hope you wore them and loved them. And if you didn’t then I hope that the Retro Steam Punk gal finds them and loves them.
Good afternoon LBR,
I am sure this was a tough exercise but I have to let you know that I am envious of your closet now. Don’t you feel some freedom? I also think that you are making some people very happy as they find their treasures.
I have become more cautious in shopping seeing that I too was forced to toss lovely things I never got to use.
Love to you and Lily from us three…xoxoxo
I do feel happy not to have the extraneous mess. It makes me want to take this editing impulse to other containers in my life.
Lily and I send love back to you three.xoxo
What happens to a pair of Cole Haan shoes deferred….
Do they get piled on top of a donated load?
Or do they teeter home with a very lucky person?
That’s wonderful. It’s good to make decisions.
I vote for teetered home.:-)
It seems our lives are filled with things we carry around against the day when they can all be arranged to furnish the perfect life we dream. Sometimes it’s best to lighten our loads so we can look up and see the sky and perhaps dance in the shoes we’re wearing.
Brilliant. YES! Perfectly said. Thank you, Susan.
When you get rid of old shoes, you can get new shoes
I took well loved shoes to the shoe repair today and hope to extend their life. That is as far as I have gotten so far.
Oh the lure of pointy shoes. I have a similarly ornate pair, bought at the Barney’s sale at Barker hangar years ago, worn once, painfully. They’ve made it through several donation rounds but will go eventually. They just aren’t me, they are who I thought I might be at some point. I think part of the grace of age is the ability to say okay, they’re pretty but they are someone else’s shoes. We can’t live all the lives our shoes/clothes could take us to. This happened to me a lot more when I was younger, I’d buy without real understanding of my body, my style, my lifestyle, just tempest tossed by fashion and the idea of being attractive/noticeable. Now mostly, I know my limitations but unrealistic shoes have a way of making their way in, mainly because they don’t have to pass the test of whether or not my ass will fit in them.
With age does come wisdom. And I do love the wisdom of knowing who I am and knowing what works for me. LOL! I agree that it is easier to take some risks with shoes and maybe that is why we all have a Cinderella shoe or two. Your last line made me laugh/snort out loud.:-)
Weasel Friend, only you could write such a poignant post about a pair of shoes. I think this is one of your best entries ever.
Oh, sometimes we have to be messengers. And something has to attract us enough, all unawares, to do our bit. Here is a story in that connection:
When I was five, I lived with my two much older brothers, my dad, and my very practical no-nonsense mother. (let us speak of her no more). My oldest brother had brought a girlfriend home from college for the holidays. She was a revelation to me. So bright, so pretty, so girly and to me she seemed as if the sun had just rolled into a musty closet. She made me a Christmas stocking that I kept for decades before finally losing it in a move. I never forgot her. My brother did, though, and married someone else. I asked him about her, years later, and he claimed not even to recall her. My mom did remember her, though, but couldn’t remember her name. Anyway, I was telling this story to someone, and saying “how could he not even remember that wonderful girl?” I was pretty indignant on her behalf. My friend said, wisely, “How do you know she was there for him? I think she was there for YOU.” I think my friend is right, and my brother was just the way of getting her there.
All that to say…I bet those shoes are on their way to some other gal, the one they’re meant for, the one for whom they will be a perfect fit, just like Cinderella’s slippers.
this is a beautiful story and you tell it well. I’ll remember this.
I adore this story. I had a very short-term nanny( just a few weeks) and her presence in my life changed me. I don’t know who I would be if I didn’t meet her. Your story of this girl who was so important to you but not so important to your brother is a BEAUTIFUL one. I love what your friend said and how she reframed it for you.
And I so enjoy the idea that maybe I was the midwife, all along, for this other girl’s dream. How lovely that is. Thank you.
they are beautiful shoes… what sweet taste you have in shoes and in dreams.
i also think it’s quite special of you imagining a young lady encountering them and feeling like one of her dreams have come true. this has happened to me… where i have stumbled upon something i just love. what a great feeling. you will have done that for someone.
a dream unfulfilled… augh, know what that feels like.
i am finding that when i ‘step’ into what i love, the opportunity appears. i normally wait for the perfect occasion… and sadly it doesn’t appear.
i am learning that when i wear that perfume that i just love that i found in the sweetest shop in paris, when i wear it… the occasion i have been longing for comes to me. does this make sense in a strange kinda way?
again, really beautiful shoes!! buy another gorgeous pair and wear them… see what happens. it’s also kind of like the lingerie thing that no one sees, but you know, and it makes you feel a certain way that i think attracts the occasion dreamed of…
Audrey, I just had to include your link to the post you wrote in response to this. So lovely!! http://mashappiness.wordpress.com/2011/01/27/perfume-your-days/
Dreams deferred, dreams unfulfilled and dreams that live in boxes are dreams that make one want to give up on dreams. But then one comes across such a beautiful dreamer as you and then one thinks that maybe one ought to step into the dream a little and see where it takes one. Hmmm…who is this “one” I keep speaking of?;-)
Oh, lovely. I still find souvenirs of old dreams, and I throw them in the trash as fast as I can and then wonder why the rest of the day is off-kilter. I am sorry. I really do think you are on your way to your other door — your recent hard and good posts tell me that. This was a look back at the door that closed. There will be new shoes, and new dreams ahead.
Throwing out dream-filled-objects can definitely leave one feeling wonky. I do feel like I am in the middle of something big. I feel a little impatient, wanting to know where all of this is going to take me. But I take comfort in your seeing.
I’m glad you’re getting rid of them. You don’t need a reminder of unfulfilled dreams anywhere near you.
Thank you so much, Pearl. I am too. There is something about the way you phrased this that really cut through something for me. Thank you!
Good for you! I feel so mature and liberated when I unburden my mind and my closet.
Love you, dearest. Have been thinking of you, but been too busy to check in. xoxo
It is amazing how what seems to hold the dream is suddenly cripplingly uncomfortable and thus represents something you don’t need in your life any more. I too have let go all sorts of clothing simply to draw a line under a part of me that no longer exists. I hate the waste of money but like you try to put a bit of spin on it and imagine the pleasure they may give someone else.
I am guessing you must be in a good place right now to let them go but don’t you feel so much lighter for detoxing your wardrobe? I must confess I love doing that for years I clung to certain things and confess I have in a bag some memories I can’t let go just yet but on the whole once in the ‘bag’ I fell lighter, better and ready to go buy some more!!!
You DIDN’T….did you?? I would never be able to part with them after that long of carting them around!!
BUT, now it’s time to buy MORE
Congrats on the loss, BTW!
I’ve been doing some of this, this purging of old shoes and clothes. Each items seems to represent a view of myself that I once desired. Revisiting the individual pieces reconnects me with some of these women I once was or hoped to be, but then I look in the mirror and if this dream woman is a stranger it is best to let her go. I think this new me is closer to the authentic me, before I tried to put on all these masks, before I tried to wear this armor.
You capture the essence of the thing so poignantly.