Nonfiction by Melanie Faith
For over three years, I’ve gone almost nowhere to try to stay healthy. Thank you, Covid. (Eyeroll.) Although I’m short, my natural go-to is a flat shoe with a buckle or a sneaker, because they feel the best and are most practical (read: match with everything). Recently, I found a pair of burgundy mary janes with thick, ‘90s 2-inch chunky heels. This was my first time in years wearing heels, and I’d only ever worn the lower, chunkier heels (never spikes—the thin, pointy, rickety kind).
The price was right on these designer-label babies ($29.99) and just looking at the shiny upper razzle-dazzled me, so they went home with me. What did I learn from wearing them for the first time, attempting to break them in?
Joy is a shoe that you won’t wear every day. As a telecommuter who still only goes out two or three times a week briefly on errands like the grocery store, these babies aren’t gonna get daily use. But who cares? Ever hear of the good plates? As in, family china handed down that only gets a Thanksgiving or Christmas or Easter place on the table? Do we like them any less for that? Hardly. They denote special care and the thought placed into the meal. These shoes denote something similar: care.
Know what you’re dealing with. Even chunky heels that disperse weight more evenly on the foot aren’t as comfortable as a flat boot or tennis shoe. Pick your places wisely. Ease into it if you have to. I wore mine around the kitchen as I made warmed-up tacos. Then I sat to eat. New shoes take a while to break in, and after a half hour, I felt done. I popped them off for stocking feet, the bones below my toes not exactly aching but calling for a break already.
Sometimes, playful and fun are worth it. It’s been a long, hard few years. Illness, the pandemic, wars, dramatic rises in costs. We’ve been bogged down and more than earned a treat, something that lights us up inside just looking at them, and these shoes do. Yeah, they had the same pair in my size in neutral black, but there was no contest: the oxblood glimmers and puts a smile on my face. They recall the ‘90s of my youth and the untold happinesses that could be around the corner now. They are a hopeful shoe. They also remind me of the kinds of shoes worn for flamenco dancing and tap dancing—two movements that surely bring a whirl to the dancers. Do I dance? Around the office for an audience of me, myself, and I. Does it bring me any less joy? Not even close!
Your frivolous something might not be shoes or something you buy at all. It might be taking a morning off to return to a hobby you’ve been meaning to do but that kept getting shoved aside for the day job and family functions. It might be getting your bike or skates or basketball or gym clothes out of storage and gearing up for some head-clearing exercise or a walk on your own around the block. Or letting your old digital or analog camera walk with you around the neighborhood.
These activities, like my shoes, give a person something to look forward to, no matter how near or far that might be. Investing in whimsy and in ourselves with just a little effort or money often lightens our moods and puts a spring back in our step. They are an engagement with the world and a reengagement with self. Priceless.
Melanie Faith is a night-owl writer and editor who likes to wear many hats, including as poet, photographer, professor, and tutor. Three of her craft books about writing were published by Vine Leaves Press in 2022. She enjoys ASMR videos, reading, and tiny houses. Learn more at https://melaniedfaith.com/.
