What wonder might be found in a pair of shoes?
All the wonders of the world if it’s the right pair.
I don’t know if these encapsulate every single wonder there is, but they come close, and when it comes to shoes, close is enough. I enjoy a fun pair, but they aren’t my everything. I’m a strange bird who prefers a fancy new robe over a fancy new pair of shoes any day. Same for coats and bags. Shoes are actually down on my list when it comes to obsessions. Still, there are some that tickle my uterus. (I’ve started to drop nonsensical euphemisms as my age advances, which should make for fun future readings of this blog)
These floral puppies beg the existential question of whether the clothes make the man. In my case, they often do, in a roundabout way. Wearing something fun like this inspires me – it alters my mood slightly, elevating and injecting it with a whimsy that might otherwise remain buried. It adds a lift to my step, both for the silliness of such footwear and for the floral prettiness of them. With a cheerier countenance, my attitude about things improves. I’m less irritable, less likely to make a scene if there are fifty shop workers asking if I need help and only one person working a register with ten people in line. Do such shoes make me a better person? Not at all. Do they make me a better-behaving person? Quite possibly. And a bit happier too, if I’m being honest. It’s not because I’m a material girl; I simply love color. And flowers. And beauty. And… spring.
