I read a post from Ready to Live Longer (https://readytolivelonger.com/2017/05/06/another-birthday-treat-yourself/comment-page-1/?blogsub=confirmed#blog_subscription-3) about red shoes and it reminded me of purchasing my first pair of red heels.
I was in my 40’s, and had never thought of myself as being ‘conservative’ in my life style…until a clothes consultant took me in hand and directed me to the shoe department of a large retail store.
I immediately headed to the black, navy blue and brown pump selections, since we were ‘dressing me for success’ for business. Maybe they were boring, but hey, who looks at shoes anyway?
To my dismay and discomfort, this stylist told the foot fitter to bring out red heels…bright red heels. My curls were bobbing sideways as I shook my head vigorously.
‘No, no, no! No red shoes.’
She quietly asked me why not. And I whispered, “Red shoes are whore shoes.”
She responded with this shocked then pity-filled look and then started laughing. Now, what is so funny about thinking red shoes are for women of the night, or whatever the proper name for the females who wander the streets wearing short skirts, fish net hose, scanty tops, and RED shoes?
I was appalled (with 2 p’s) that she actually thought I would be caught dead, alive, working or hiding in a closet wearing fire-engine Red heels. It just wouldn’t happen. No way. Nope. Nada.
When she agreed to help me dress my way into corporate America, she elicited an agreement that I would trust her judgement, since she thought my current wardrobe lacked not only sophistication but lots of taste. I grudgingly agreed to try on the evil shoes and prayed no one I knew was in the same store or same mall. This was just too embarrassing.
She softly cooed, patting my hand, and assuring I was not going to have a heart attack because of the red shoes that adorned my feet.
Admittedly, they looked good, but the stigma I had built-in my mind was waging a war against current style.
This wicked woman kept reminding me that we had bought a red suit earlier. Yes, but, red shoes? That was just over the top.
After much agonizing, arguing, gnashing of teeth, and nail-biting, I honored my commitment and went home with the sinful shoes and shoved them in the back of my dark closet. They were not going to see the light of day any time soon.
Some days later, I decided to pull out the red suit and take it for a spin at the office. I dragged out the faithful black pumps that go with everything, and realized they didn’t really work with my red garb. I tried the white shoes, the blue ones, the brown ones…and nothing looked ‘finished’. And if there is anything I wanted was to look ‘finished’. After all, I was on my way to the top.
Out came the red shoes, and with trepidation, I ventured out into the business world, fearful that I would be fired for such brazen disregard for proper attire. I’d no doubt be sent home by Human Resources and told to tone down my footwear fetish.
I’m here to tell you that my feet became the talk of the bank. Even the head of HR hurried down to get a gander and exclaim at these fabulous footsie covers.
The end of this tale is I currently have several pairs of red shoes: sandals, flats, pumps, running shoes, you name it, I’ve got it. You see, the magic of red shoes led me to the throne of a bank where I ruled long enough to figure out ruling a bank isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. At least for me.
I took the lesson of red shoes and applied it to many situations in my life. Trusting that one pair of red shoes could lead me to any of my aspirations.
And since red has worked so well, I have added pink to my power base: not to my feet, but to my hair. I’m eager to see what fun things pink hair will lead me to.