silk on sidewalks

When I wear these shoes, I am caught between the frigid air of fall in the Pacific Northwest and an idealized version of Spokane, as experienced on the club level of the Doubletree downtown with the notion of drinks in Spencer's Steakhouse and Chops--the kind of restaurant with personalized martini glasses that dotes on the importance of crumb scrapers.

If I could only live in this moment... standing there in these silk, animal print, peep-toe pumps and my gauchos, a Free People cowl neck sweater, my hair past the highlighting phase of my senior year of high school that turned me practically blond, slightly auburn and getting long. Filled with hope and anticipation of a life in an eastern Washington city that same way that I'd once dreamed of walking the sidewalks of Times Square, bits of mica glittering like the sparkle of my prayers for fame. Vacationing with my mother, shopping at the Nordstrom and taking a picture with a live English bulldog named Spike, a donor's personal Gonzaga mascot that I'm pretty sure lasted no longer than a season more in attendance at McCarthey Athletic Center.

These shoes have walked the halls of that Doubletree, sat at the bar of Spencer's Steakhouse and Chops, seen their share of evenings at the Top of the Hill on Franklin Street in Chapel Hill. They've seen the AMC Theaters at River Park Square on a Sunday morning for a five dollar feature and clicked along the halls of Northtown Mall while shopping the eternal sales of Express. They've led me from my Costco catered grad school graduation party and across the stage to receive my masters, up the front steps of Bryant-Denny stadium and even today, from Oklahoma Memorial Stadium to lunch on campus corner.

The silk is splitting at the balls of my feet, a tiny fray from hitting the mica infused asphalt or concrete one too many times with my determined steps or occasional loss of footing. The wedge needs to be reheeled, the hidden stiletto scraping steel on concrete. The print is timeless, cheetah yet classic and the silk bow that masked today's extreme need for a pedicure adds a balance of flirty femininity to a shoe that could belong to Blair Waldorf today or match Sam & Libby flats from back in the day. And yet I am reminded of the day I first tried this five year old pair of pumps on, unwrapping them from the tissue paper and slipping them on in the frigid fall of the Pacific Northwest, walking a few blocks back to the hotel with mom, silver Nordstrom bag swinging in my right hand and a dream that will last forever of the story these shoes can tell.