My shoes were not the Silverlake norm. My mother had “bad feet” and wanted to ensure that her daughters didn’t. New shoes meant going to Penny’s in Glendale and buying white oxfords—basically what today would be called “nurse shoes.” Sometimes they were black and white “saddle shoes.” But our shoes were never anything as exciting as a pair of Keds. No support, my mother said.
After school, upon the encouragement of my teacher, I would lug out the polish kit. Needing both white and black touch ups, I became adept at keeping within the lines of the stitching. I loved buffing the best.
Then one day it came time for new shoes. When we arrived home from Penny’s, my sister and I watched television. There in full black and white was an advertisement for PF Flyers that showed a cartoon figure able to jump ten feet high because of the sporty canvas shoes.
Since I had brand new shoes, I thought I might get the same results. I went into the back yard, through the fence to an “open lot,” and jumped off a wall.
I didn’t bounce, nor did I go ten feet in the air. I rolled on a piece of broken glass, went to the Hollywood emergency room and got stitches. My sister hid under the bed with her friend because of my screams. That friend would later visit me in Sweden.
Despite the scar, saddle shoes ruled our lives until junior high when I sneaked a pair of patent leather, candy apple red, slip-ons into my locker and ditched the saddle shoes until it was time to walk home.
I thought i was the only kid who wore corrective saddle shoes. Candy apple red patent leather, nice.
ReplyDeleteI grew up in New Mexico and had to wear corrective saddle shoes too. The boys used to make fun of me because the heels were so high. They were very stiff leather and very beat up from the rocky school yard. We had grass but were not allowed to step on it, much less play on it. Everybody else had beautiful slim velvet or suede shoes with little colored leather patches on them. Red shoes sound magical. I lived in such a small town, that I could not have gotten away with any change of clothing without the news getting home before I did.
ReplyDeleteWell--maybe my mom was correct. I've lived--mostly barefoot or in "flipflops" for 22 years in Hawaii. Now my feet are a chiropodist's dream. And I've gained a full shoe size. Now I get my kicks wearing weird Camper brand boots from Spain.
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