The Unqualified Addict

I hate shopping. There. I said it. But today was different. May be I had a suppressed shopper gene that bloomed so late. And now it’s insatiable… well at least as far as shoes are concerned. I want them. I want them all, in all colors and designs. I know I am not a shopaholic yet, but who knows this might just be the beginning.

As a kid, I never passed for a typical girl. I would wear my dad’s over-sized shirts, baggy jeans and rugged floaters. I was raised amongst brothers and was closest to my dad who would treat me like a son. I confess that I was a bit of a geek. I loved physics and astronomy and would dream about becoming a scientist or an astronaut. I competed with boys in sports, though I wouldn’t say that I beat them all. Dresses, shoes, dolls, gossips and the like were never my thing. I ran away from them. But things change when you live in a place surrounded my girls… the hostel.

Even after nearly eight years of hostel life I suck at fashion trivia, but I lot has changed. Dad’s shirts have been replaced by t-shirts and kurtis. Floaters have disappeared and flip-flops and bellies own the place. But all this was gradual and mundane. I was never very excited about shopping for them. It’s like on a need-to-replace-the-worn-outs basis. Especially shoes. I hated shopping for footwear. I hate my feet. They are broad like my dad’s and as a kid I would never find a good enough shoe in the girls section where they had the most colorful collections. The prettiest designs never came in my size. I’d always settle for a pair of floaters or sneakers. As a result, I remained a muggle to that world. I knew I would never find the right shoe for me and so I never showed any interest in buying them. May be I was jinxed, I thought.

But earlier this evening, I visited a nearby mall with my sister to kill some time. She scores an A in all sorts of fashion trivia, well at least when compared to me. She took me to one of such footwear showrooms that I dreaded. While she tried on different pairs, I browsed around dispassionately. One red pair caught my eye. I don’t know if it was the shoe or just the color that happens to be my favorite. Anyways, I don’t know why but felt like trying it on, knowing that I’ll have to put it back coz there’s no way that slender thing would fit my foot. As I reluctantly tried it on, my foot effortlessly slipped into it! No fight! No rejection! It was perfect. That red thing with heels, neither too high nor flat, the grip, neither too tight nor too loose, adorned my right foot. I was so very happy. I looked around to find some confetti and the people in the store looking at me, clapping appreciatively, like in the movies when the protagonist gives a winning speech and people start clapping, slowly picking up the tempo. Ok enough with the theatrics. Nothing happened and ofcourse no one noticed. But I was elated. I wore the other one of the pair and walked towards the mirror. My feet never looked better. The ugly spell on them was now broken. I pirouetted to see them from all angles. They were pretty. They were mine. Suddenly all such beautiful pairs became visible, as if my visible spectrum just widened. My sense of sight became stronger and I scurried towards the showcase that hosted many such heels. There were so many… blue, black, golden, silver, purple, glazed, shiny… Ah! So pretty! So many! I tried them on one by one, silently admiring my feet again and again. The shopkeepers must have thought I am a nut-case. But hell, I loved it. When it came to buying, my meager pocket helped me take just one of them and ofcourse I picked those red ones, the ones that broke the spell. But I promised myself that the day I get my first paycheck, I am buying more. Definitely.

Later that evening when I was chatting with a very dear friend and an ardent fashion critic Varsha, I told her that I had bought a new pair of ‘stellatoes’ ( I framed that spelling coz I thought that the footwear  must have something to do with toes!). She was amused. ‘haha… you mean stilettos dear’, she corrected, ‘And they are not stilettos. Stilettos are extremely thin longish heels with diameter not more than 0.4 or 0.5 inches. Yours are puppy heels may be’. I gaped at the screen blankly for a moment and dug deeper into my chair. When did shoes become so complex?? Apparently, there are things called kitten heels and prisms too! All the prisms I know were the one that disperse white light into vibyor! Me silly me. We laughed at this cute yet funny fashion nomenclature and then I returned to the new ‘Puppy heels’, my red, slender, make-my-feet-look-good SHOES. I looked at them fondly. I don’t care what they are called, puppy, goofy, kitten, but boss, I am smitten. They fit me well, my unique feet. Though mine are so not the Cinderella-feet, but if I get lost someday, my prince charming can come looking for me with just the right shoe ;)