Foot Loose

There's not much in this life that is more fabulous than new shoes -- new stylin' shoes that you pick out yourself.

These little honeys belong to my four year old son. He negotiated for them by picking out a pair of butch sneakers for school in return for these babies at home. Smart kid.

These shoes don't really see any outdoor action, not because he's embarrassed, but because they must remain PRISTINE. I have washed them gently with Dove soap ... 3X the first day. They hold a nightly position of honor on the steps of his bunk bed so he can gaze at their loveliness. When he gets quiet and has a dreamy look in his eyes ... I know he's just thinking about them.

I remember that look. Its the one I had the first time I conned my mother into buying a sassy pair of shoes of my own choosing. These were actually cowboy boots made of genuine, rich, Corinithian Pleather. I thought they were the absolute bomb. I wore them so much my mom was worried my feet might shrink from sweating off a few sizes inside the plastic sauna. One of the heels melted a little bit from being too close to my baseboard heater one night ... but I didn't care.

Those boots were made for everything my six year old mind could imagine. I could spend an hour just thinking of what I would wear them with, the feats of derring-do I would be capable of, the adventures I would surely have ... wearing my boots.

Footwear can be life-changing, and soul affirming.

The only foot-related item I may have loved more than those boots were my genuine trademarked "Fonzie" knee socks, featuring a great big picture of Arthur Fonzarelli in his trademark Ayyyyyyeeee pose. His two thumbs were way up -- way before Siskel and Ebert ripped him off.

Ahh, the Fonz - he was the epitome of coolness. Sure, later I found out he was just some nebishy Jewish guy in a courderoy blaser with suede elbow patches, but then -- he was mojo personified and I was the lucky girl sporting him on both my shins as I skipped off to Brownie camp. I loved those socks so much, I kept the cardboard insert they were packaged with and taped it to my bedroom door.

The image of Fonzie had bled through onto the white cardboard, leaving a very visible impression ... kind of the kneesock Shroud of Turin. I knew Fonzie wanted to be with me always. You don't find that kind of love every day.

Its nice to see that look again. I may have to go shoe shopping myself .. Here's wishing all your footwear fantasies come true ....