Ah shoes

I’ve mostly finished using Kondo’s method to sort through and store my clothing. By mostly, I mean I’ve gone through probably 90% of my clothes and shoes, discarding those that just flat don’t spark joy. But I’m struggling with my shoes, and it’s an odd sort of struggle.

I’ve got a pile of the shoes that need to find another home. But that pile is still in the house . . .  Those who know me will agree that I’m generally prone to acting too soon rather than dawdling. So why haven’t I just donated them already?

It’s not guilt, at least I don’t think it is. The money I spent on shoes that ended up not working is long gone, a total sunk cost. Or maybe that’s exactly what it is. Adding up what I spent on them, these shoes in the go away pile, well let's just say it's not a low number. I’ve never been able to wear cheap shoes, they are always too wide, and so while the shoes weren’t extravagant, they were also not cheap. Some of them were needed at times when money was tight, so they also represent harder times for me.

I’ve hung on to this pair for nearly 10 years. They are brown suede Van Eli heels, a much richer brown than the photo shows here, and they fit me like a dream. I have not worn them since September, 2007 when I wore them to my older son’s wedding. Unlike the rest of the shoes in the good bye pile, these don’t hurt my feet. But they are brown, bought during a stage of my style evolution where I thought I ought to wear brown. That stage lasted a nanosecond, long enough for me to get these shoes and then I very quickly realized that (a) brown doesn’t feel right on me and (b) I don’t much like it anyway. But they do fit beautifully*, and as I wrote about here, that’s a rare thing.

Kondo’s book says we hang on to unsuitable things for one of two reasons: an attachment to the past or a fear for the future. When I look at the pile of shoes and examine my reluctance to just toss them already, I don’t really fear the future. I have a couple of pairs of shoes that work well and I’m firmly committed to never again compromising on my shoes.  I guess it could be an attachment to the past, although that doesn’t quite ring true for me either.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking—that I would have been more discerning and even pickier in the past. And also yes, it’s the money. Salvation Army is going to get some awfully nice shoes and I really hope the women who buy them love them. I loved them too, at one point, and if they didn’t hurt my toes, they’d spark a lot of joy.

*In fact, Van Eli shoes from around that same year did fit me well with no pain but alas, they’ve changed their style and their current shoes look frumpy/ugly to me.