Putting on shoes and airs

Putting on shoes and airs

Clothing and shoes have never been my forte. My self-worth never was measured
by the price of my clothes, or my character
judged on my shopping choices. However, one day I sat comtemplating the impression I give by what I wear- and is it accurate? Should I buy some shoes which shows my future in maturity and my ability to be sexy and “with the times”?
When my animal-free, waterproof, neo-hippy sandals made their debut on my feet this spring, they stared up at me with used optimism. They reminded me of the sandy summer days smoking pot and canoeing with a guy who called himself “Desperado”. They hinted at the time I sat on the front porch of my apartment
watching the clouds and anxiously waiting for my shift at work to start. I put my feet in the sandals remembering the dread- locked poet preaching while I drank coffee, my eyes gawking. After all this flooded into my memory, I then felt old and out dated. The strap on the right was frayed along with my first two unpolished
toe nails wedged between the enviro-friendly multi-colored strap.
My self-esteem came to a wrenching- down on-the emergency brake- halt. Am I still considered earthy? Am I the still the type of person who wears these shoes? Have I not outgrown this college phase? Being almost 30, I should be wearing Jimmy Choo’s low slung heels with sequins and hope. I should strut around In at least semi-leather heels from a moderate department store bought on my lunch break. Not these sandals.
These sandals are not 21st century- martini- sipping -cool chick shoes. They are 20th
century easy going, long hair people’s shoes. Made for either sexes, because- equality
comes first- kind of shoes- because my kind don’t use sexism, its all progressive thinking,
and peace signs for us. Is that era over? The shoes are comfortable to me, and I still
stand up for the hippie ideals. If that means I wear the hippie shoes, then let them cast
the etheral shadow on the sidewalk. I can carry the burden.