Posts Tagged ‘women’s shoes’
Mary Poppins Boots-Contest Runner Up
Stacy Meier
The year I was 28, I left my newspaper job in Dallas to “do the Europe thing.” One of the older, seasoned reporters had stopped by my desk, nodded toward the world map on the wall, and said: “Do it now. Do it before it’s too late.”
Within months of that moment, I was looking out onto autumn countryside from the window of an English bus. Though sleepy from a transatlantic flight, I was anxious about the adventure sure to come. I was wearing my Mary Poppins boots. They were black and tied at the ankles with string. Made of that soft leather that feels as comfy as slippers but that is durable, too, they were poised for motion and ready to step into the Great Unknown.
My older sister and brother had been the braver ones. They’d gone off to colleges out of state and married fairly young. Not me. I’d always stayed near home, never far from my mom’s meat loaf dinners or Rangers games with my dad. Though my parents were my closest friends, they could infuriate me. This was especially true with my dad. He was the Horatio Alger story retold; a man who’d come up poor and built a successful business of his own. With all his enthusiasm and strong opinions, he was often hard to please. As much as I loved him and my mom, I somehow had to crawl out of their nest and prove my independence. When a graduate school in Wales accepted my application, I knew I had to go.
In Britain, my Mary Poppins boots served me well. They gave me speed for catching trains, stability in the frequent rain, traction on the stairs of the old coal miner’s flat where I lived. New friends and I walked everywhere in our university town — back and forth from classes, the launderette, the markets and the pubs. We walked everywhere, day and night, talking and laughing, never tiring out. Surely I wore other shoes in all this walking, but the boots were the shoes I remember wearing most.
That year, I traveled as much as I possibly could. Scenes stand out for me — the crashing waves of Cornwall … a theatre festival in Edinburgh … a white-haired lady tending roses behind a London gate … a Christmas Day in Yorkshire, the loneliest day of the year by far. And that was the year you could say I grew in the way I guess I was supposed to – slipping and drifting a bit but eventually finding my way to confident adulthood, learning a few things about life without any parents to cheer me on.
But even now, more than 20 years later, there’s something I keep remembering that year. I am not sure it has anything to do with adulthood or the Mary Poppins boots. It’s something my sister told me years after I’d come home from Wales.
She and my dad had taken me to the airport the day I left. My dad had brought an extra jacket for me to take though I’d told him I wouldn’t need it. Well, after I’d hugged him and my sister goodbye and disappeared beyond the gate, my dad looked down at the jacket he’d brought for me and he started to cry.
Why is that the most potent memory of all? Is it because “my Europe thing” was as profound to my dad as well as to me? That each meaningful action we take in life affects those who love us more than we can dream? We’re all growing, we’re all trying, and we’re all focused on the great adventure I suppose. All I know from the detail my sister shared about my dad is that I always hugged him tighter after that.
Every Precious Step-1st Place Winner
Terra Lahrman
I couldn’t imagine why my Grandmother would have saved every shoe of mine from birth to the age of nine. Today I might have thought she was a compulsive hoarder. Then, I simply thought she had forgotten to throw or give them away. My first memory was seeing this pile of shoes in a decorative box in the closet. She was a wife of a farmer and seamstress by trade. The box was covered in fabric, a black, gray and red nubbed material that was once on a couch that graced the living room of our farm house in Indiana. Being a seamstress and from humble beginnings, the couch never changed but the fabric that would lie upon it seemed to always have a short life. She was constantly recovering that old couch, it somehow always seemed new. This crazy box of shoes was covered in that memorable nubbed fabric.
That didn’t surprise me, but the purpose of keeping the shoes did.
This box followed them, followed my Grandmother and Grandfather from the farm house, to four different lake houses until it somehow had to be thrown away. By me unfortunately, I didn’t get it. I tell this story with the hopes that YOU will get it, be able to identify and keep special things from your childhood. That said, It’s no surprise they were tossed. After all, these shoes weren’t even worth giving away, they were old and certainly not in style or the quality for today’s children; many had holes or were badly worn.
I’m not sure I ever really asked why she had kept these shoes for so long, or had kept them at all for that matter. I just remember one day in my mid 30’s after an incredibly difficult two weeks for both of us; facing a three part tragedy of loss, the death of my Mother and my Uncle, both in their 50’s. And finally the cherry on the cake was three days after a double funeral, my then husband asked for a divorce. While this was a very challenging and sad time in our lives, after the dust settled, somehow my positive Grandmother Agnes who’s mantra was “pull yourself up by your boot straps and go on” left this envelope on my kitchen table. Inside this simple vanilla nondescript envelope was the most beautiful message of love, courage and joy.
I grew up feeling loved and supported, it never waivered and I have my own description of it – “celebrating my woolly worm” but that’s another tale. Somehow it all came together on a dark day when I opened that envelope. I knew why I was so adored and so cherished. My hard-working, salt of the earth Grandmother had given me a gift – a paper memory. She kept and took pictures of every single pair of shoes I ever wore while I lived with them. There were the torn-up- by- the- beagle- dog baby shoes, grown- through- the- toes toddler shoes, follow-the-yellow-brick-road shiny red shoes, and finally my very favorite and definitely well worn, these-boot-were-made-for-walkin’ white paten leather boots, and many more. While the shoes are gone, the memory lives on. Finally, the reason, albeit unsolicited was alas revealed.
My Mother was young when she became pregnant with me and my biodad was simply passing through. No doubt that was difficult for my Mom; she was beautiful, smart and ambitious. She wanted more out of life and a baby wasn’t exactly in her original plan. Shortly after she had me, she moved to the nearest city outside of our farm town and my Grandparents raised me. We had little, but they gave me everything. Grandma Agnes kept my shoes as she always knew in the back of her mind that my Mother would some day want me and take me back, and she did just that when she met my loving stepfather and built a life with him and me.
Grandma lived with me the last ten years of her life and was vibrant and silly nearly to her last 85 years. But it was in her 70’s and after the passing of my Mother she decided to share her reason for keeping this parade of shoes, she told her story of love in a simple vanilla envelope. This envelope contained four pieces of paper, two photos of all of those shoes, a now yellowed piece of paper from a magazine or newspaper that stated “happiness is a pile of shoes”, and finally her courageous and loving words in her writing –These shoes were saved so we would remember every precious step. We thank God for your life and those little tootsies that pitter pattered through ours.
In loving memory of Grandma Agnes and Grandpa Willard.
Chocolate Shoe Winners Announced
THE WINNERS ARE…..
Thank you for leaving your footprint on the SOLE SISTERS project.
Our shoe vault overflowed with your stories, some funny, others sad, provocative and sexy. Women talked about shoes relating to their Moms, Dads, Grandmoms, Lovers, Husbands, Daughters and Friends. You walked us through those first shoes, prom shoes, wedding shoes, sexy shoes, lucky shoes, ones that took you through good and bad times, and even the shoes that you wanted to be buried in. Every story was a testament to how much we identify with our shoes.
As much as we would have liked to have picked everyone (and let me tell you they all were terrific), the judges finally selected winners. Please read to the end of this emailer.
Best,
Cynthia Salzman Mondell
| And the Winners are… |
The Audience Award
Lisa Hurka Covington of
Towson, Maryland
My Shoes Speak For Me
First Place Award
Terra Lahrman of Dallas,Texas
Every Precious Step
A special Chocolate Shoe goes to the Runners-Up:
Vivian Castleberry for My Shoe Story
Stacy Meier for Mary Poppins Boots
Pam Barnes for Love Letter To My High Heels
Mary Martell for The Shoe On The Road
EVERYONE IS A WINNER
We applaud everyone who took the time to share a story. To show our appreciation, we are offering you a small, but delicious CocoAndre Chocolate Shoe. Please pick it up at our office at 5211 Homer Street, Dallas, TX 75206 by June 15th. We are open M-F, 9 am to 6 pm.
Please call or email to let us know you are coming.
Dalma and Her Shoes
Vivian Morrow Jones
In September 1939 a young woman signed on for her first teaching job in Presidio, a dusty border town not too far from Marfa, Texas. She had gotten her college degree without help from her father, who did not see any need for women to go to college. With money earned from sewing, ironing, and doing manicures, she did get that degree, and she started a job a month after graduation, living with two girlfriends. Except for the fact that Hitler marched into Poland the day after she started work, changing the world forever, she loved her first job and would teach first grade for more than 35 years.
But what she really relished was having her own income to spend on…you can guess…shoes.
With her first paycheck, she paid rent, and with the rest of the money ordered two pairs of shoes from the fashion-forward department store in El Paso known as Popular Dry Goods. Friends and family would never let her forget that she spent her first paycheck on shoes.
Even though she stood up most of the day—when she wasn’t sitting in short, small chairs surrounded by children—my mother never wore anything but high heels. When we moved to another part of Texas, Mother began shopping for shoes at a store called Barnes in San Angelo. I can still see the man , Carmichael was his name, who waited on her every time she shopped, and he knew exactly what size she wanted: 7 ½ AAAA or quad. The higher the heel and more pointed the toe, the better.
I became aware that our community noticed how cute she was when my friends’ mothers began to mention to me that she had wonderful shoes. No less than a deacon at our church teased me that my mother had great legs, saying I’d be lucky to “get them.” I guess that was when men looked at legs, especially those shown off by great shoes. As a nine-year-old, I was hospitalized for bronchitis, and Mother came by everyday when her class dismissed. I could hear her distinctive step long before she reached my room as those high heels hit the linoleum floor in the hospital hall. It was most comforting.
I was fourteen when Mother bought a pair of heels for me. When I look at them now I realize, yes, they were pretty sexy for a child my age. Palizzio, black patent with a cutout on the heel. (Under the name inside the shoe is written “…very New York.”) They were to be worn with with a brown and black dress. Scandalized, my grandmother insisted a girl couldn’t wear black until she was 18, better at 21. Mother ignored her and proceeded to get me a white pair (De Liso Debs) when spring arrived. I still have both pair. I have a couple of her shoes, too. Suffice to say platforms today have nothing on a pair of 1940 vintage sandals made of green suede. Another pair is open-toed alligator shoes. Yes, real alligator circa 1950s with purse to match.
We never wore the same size, and I know she was glad she didn’t have to share with me. She’s now 93, and not too long ago we looked at a photo of her wearing a smashing navy suit, made from a Vogue pattern, complete with hat and spectator shoes. “Oh, those shoes were dove grey and were beautiful,” she said. And they were, even in a 1930s-era black and white photo shot from a distance.
Audience Award-My Shoes Speak for Me
Lisa Hurka Covington
I would like to introduce myself. My name is Lisa Hurka Covington, my husband called me Mrs. Marcos who left behind 3,000 pairs of shoes, I trailed at 1,000, wearing many over a short period of time.
Actually, I never met a pair of shoes I didn’t like until the day I opened the shoe card that walked into my life, changing it forever.
Shoes have always fascinated me, my mother was a fashion artist who loved to dress. I loved to prance around in her heels, later to collect a colorful pallet of tiny shoes that dolled up my Barbie’s feet. Being one of six children, our wardrobe was slim including shoes; patents, sneakers, and saddles. My family was from Baltimore but we moved around when I was younger due to my father’s job. Dad became nationally known building tunnels and bridges for the short time he lived, 57. I recall us flying back from Louisiana to visit Nanny and Granddad who took me to Hess Shoe Store to buy a pair of burgundy leather, T bar strap, Stride Rites, I adored.
In my teens I baby-sat to buy my shoes. My favorite, leather Pappagallo flats, hot pink with a large flower in the center. I wore those shoes until the soles literally split in two. My dream of dancing never came to fruition, but until present I wear ballerina shoes and still love them. I began buying two pairs of the same style if I really l liked them so I could fall back on the second pair. I became addicted, everywhere I shopped I came home with a pair to two. Nordstrom was my favorite, they have the finest selection of shoes.
I marched down the church isle in silk, cream pumps on my wedding day, later to wear the shoes of a mother, wife and activist.
My younger sister, Laura, completed suicide at 28 years old, and it changed the direction of my life, from a decorator and antique dealer to speaking out for young peoples safety for almost twenty years. I recall the detectives handing me Laura’s duffle bag she carried until the end. Two pairs of shoes, canvas slip-ons and nude leather high heels were enclosed, she was a beauty and loved shoes.
Immediately after Laura’s death, I strapped on my activist shoes. Very few if anyone talked about suicide in the nineties until I spoke out, which lead me nationally to be featured on television, radio, magazines, newspapers and I began writing. Being dyslexic was a challenge, but I truly believe my sister was guiding me every step of the way.
Today I am the spokesperson for suicide prevention in Maryland, Founder and Executive Director of SPEAK (Suicide Prevention Education Awareness for Kids)
which I began in memory of Laura in 1999. Shoes adorn my office, from Shirley MacClaine’s black fabric heels worn on screen to my rectangular pewter bank with “shoe fund” imprinted.
My cause lead me to placing hundreds of survivors (who died tragically) shoes from sandals to clogs in front of politicians offices which almost landed me in jail. I put on my jogging shoes to run walks in the state of Maryland for suicide prevention, giving a face to a growing epidemic. Many people still chose to sweep the “s” word under the carpet even though we are losing children as young as 5 years old by suicide.
For some reason, jumpers have been known for removing their shoes before leaping off of bridges. I marched into a meeting wearing my black leather boots, with the Maryland Transportation Authority Secretary, and several others of importance, begging for telephones to be placed on several bridges for jumpers. This project would be an expensive proposition but the phones could save a life, giving jumpers one last lifeline. Twenty-six phones were installed on two Maryland bridges in 2002, my wish was granted. Shortly after, a young mother, who had a new baby waiting at home, was pacing the bridge to jump, thank God she picked up one of the phones and was saved.
My activist shoes have lead me to speak before the Maryland House and Senate, and also to attend several events with the President, Surgeon General, authors, and celebrities, etc.
Later I put on my dancing shoes and boxing gloves, I went round and round with the men on Wall Street, I call them. Finally, won the case nationally.
I always loved the story of Cinderella and the glass slipper. Never in my wildest dreams after 26 years of marriage, would I have known I too would encounter others who wanted to fill my shoes, as the shoe card informed me, only to win the prince. My husband also wore many shoes depending on which affair he was entertaining at, clown, balloonist or magician. He hobnobbed with the upper echelon, entertaining at the inaugural ball for the President of the US, to places where famous people attended, wearing his patent leathers. I was his biggest fan and his agent pushing him. Little did I know, the prince was clowning around, if you know what I mean. I then put on my running shoes to escape the heartache.
As I step into my newest shoes, animal print stilettos, I invite you to take a walk on the wild side with me and experience a small taste of my soon to be novel. 
My Expanding Sole
Dawn Mcghee
To speak on a single pair of “favorite” shoes reduces my life to a single incident. My shoes and the shoes I’ve worn have all represented many stages of maturity and experience.
The shoes of my earliest remembrance were my Sears brand sneakers. They were called “The Winner”. Those shoes were my mother’s conscious way of giving me confidence at an early age. Wearing my “Winners” made me feel I could run at top speed and succeed at any task. However, the 70s were a time of steady change. I flowed with the sands of time and changed with it.
I began to wear “Candies”. They were my first pair of heels. My mother purchased them in beige so they could be worn with any outfit. With those shoes came an assurance of freedom and liberation. As I entered my teen years during the 80s, the times begged the youth of my neighborhood to cut off the afros; get rid of the tight-rainbow colored threads; and express one’s self in baggy clothing and loosen up. My “Jelly’s” represented my loosey-goosey way of thinking.
While I still carried within myself the confidence from being a “Winner” and the freedom of being a “Candie” girl; I progressed into my teenage years with the prospect of knowing that the future was mine. I had the opportunity to become what I wanted to be. Having said that, “Jelly’s” were purchased in many colors and forms: low-heeled, flat, and sandal. It was a very good feeling knowing that I could wear a sneaker, heels or flats and still have the acceptance from a world working towards progressiveness itself.
With the increasing demands for change, I began to radicalize my thoughts and ways of behavior. I purchased revolutionary combat boots, knee-high Converse and stilettos. My closet, being filled with these types of shoes allowed me to express many of my emotions on the theatrical stage, behind the video camera and in the recording booth. I became the risqué warrior goddess; fighting for causes of various sorts; protesting for a better and truly liberated world. I realized the type of shoes I purchased were leading me to behave in a certain manner and bottling me into a single train of thought. I also began to become aware that this warrior was not the totality of my being. I refused be reduced to a self whose only shoes in the closet represented a single characteristic or a single experience.
Again, I entered another stage of life. I accepted that I am many characters and the shoes I purchased from now on were going to mirror that. I purchased sneakers, cowboy boots, sandals, high heels, low heels, flip-flops, moccasins, rubbers; a variety of shoes for the different moods and experiences of my life.
Indeed, the strangest pair of shoes I’ve worn, I admit were those of my father. After he was diagnosed with Cancer, I had to wear his shoes. They were big. They were massive. They were uncomfortable. But what an honor! Since his passing, I’ve worn comfortable shoes. As long as the shoe is comfortable, I wear it. As long as the shoes can assist me into my next phase of life with comfort, I wear them.
My shoes have definitely represented a person, place and/or thing. They were my protection and my liberation. They were made of different materials and substances. They were many different heights and widths, as was the experiences and thoughts of my life. The shoes in my life represent the soul of who I am and who I will become.
Win a delicious chocolate shoe and be part of the Sole Sisters Project
Please click on the picture!
How? Share your most memorable story about shoes. Tell us about the day you got your first heels or the time the doctor told you to switch to flats… Do you have that one pair of shoes that you will never let go off because it holds your sweetest memories? Which shoes did you wear in the happiest times of your life and what did they make you feel like? Do heels empower you? And if so, why do you think that is? Did someone fall head over heels for you because of your shoes? Every shoe has a story, every woman has both.
Stories can be short or long, joyful or somber, sassy or classy – all are welcome. The stories will be considered for the SOLE SISTERS film project and renowned chocolatier Cocoandré has donated an irresistible chocolate heel for the best story. The contest ends on April 30st Please send your stories to mail@mediaprojects.org. If you are craving some decadently delicious chocolate, please visit Cocoandré at www.cocoandre.com.
Good luck and have fun!
Puppy licence in place…
Here is a funny cute shoe story coming from Rose Kneer, the mother of the current Miss Teen America!
Read below:
Many years ago, we moved into a home which we were renting, and of course decided to add to our family, before we had children. We decided to purchase a Rottweiler puppy. We allotted him the entire basement to roam, and for training purposes as well. We were told that this particular breed may attach themselves to one person in the household and may alo suffer from seperation anxiety. Well, I can attest this was proven to be true. Upon returning from the office on this paticular day, I was so excited to see my new puppy and take him for his daily walk. Not only did I discover he broke free from his his cage, but that my shoes which were on a shelf were missing. I turned the corner to find over 20 pairs of my shoes shredded to bits. The only thing that was intact were the heels 
Miss Teen America to collect 1 million shoes!
Miss Teen America Katarina Alexis Kneer
We were so lucky to get Katarina Alexis Knee’s shoe story! She was just crowned ‘Miss Teen America’ and now guess what one of her missions is for the year of her reign? She is planning on collecting 1 million shoes for Soles4Souls who donate to adults and children in need!
Katarina already piled up tons of Jeans and coats which she delivered to the foundation’s outlet in Tennessee after she won the National title. Apart from that, she will also be the National Teen Spokesperson for bullying as well as youth advisor against driving intoxicated. This girl will be a busy bee for the next 12 months. Congratulations!!
Read below:
When I was 5 years of age, my grandma and grandpa invited us to tour Italy and visit where my mom was born. We visited with so many relatives and saw so many beautiful sites. The best part of the entire trip was not only spending time with family, but trying the different foods. Especially the Pizza.
My dad had decided to rent a car, not realizing the extremely narrow roads we would have to drive in order to reach any destination to the top of the majestic mountain. After a few hours, he felt it would be best if we returned the rent a car to the airport. We had to rush to get the car back, prior to being charged for an additional day. On that morning, my dad was putting on my favorite Disney Princess sneakers, not realizing they were on the wrong feet until arriving at the airport and everyone was looking at my feet, wondering why the little blonde american girl had her shoes on the wrong feet. They actually thought that this is how everyone wears their shoes in America! I knew my feet felt odd and uncomfortable for a reason.
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