I am a shoe-a-holic. This is an irrefutable fact, as my friends and family will confirm. However, I believe there is absolutely nothing wrong with my habit. Except, of course, for the small fact that I’m not Carrie Bradshaw, and I most definitely have not received a gorgeous walk-in closet from my boyfriend as a housewarming gift.
As a college student, I live in the equivalent of a cupboard with four other girls. In addition to being big enough to be featured on “Little People, Big World,” our abode has the lovely added charms that include a leaking fridge, baseboards that don’t reach the floor/wall, occasional mouse visits, and a bathroom window that is missing a pane. But, that’s no matter. We’re paying for location! It’s all about the location! At least that’s what I tell visitors who step inside and give me the “oh, you poor thing” smile, clearly glad their parents can afford the $1,000 a month apartment complete with heated floors and a workout facility.
But, heated floors ain’t got nothin’ on our rustic abode! What we lack in basic human amenities, we more than make up for in character! (I’m attempting to convince you of my happiness with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points! Is it working! Good! Let’s carry on then!)
So, this shoe obsession thing I’ve got going on…to be perfectly honest, it’s become a slight problem given our living space. Long ago, I took over the hallway closet and claimed it as my own since my roomie and I have the smallest of the three other existing closets in the apartment. The shelves contain my jeans, sweaters, blah, blah, blah…and I’ve made a happy home for my collection of brightly colored pumps in two drawers. But, then I realized I needed more space. So, I bought a laundry basket, filled it with the remaining shoes, and stashed it under my desk.
Then I still needed more space. So, I sorted my winter and summer shoes and stuffed two suitcases with the winter boots I’m determined to not resurrect until next fall. Success! The zippers can’t zip and there’s at least five pairs of shoes laying at the foot of my bed on any given day, but beggars can’t be choosers. So I say hooray!
Of course, this lack of space thing hasn’t deterred me from making the occasional (re: frequent) purchase of a new pair of boots or heels or sandals. Duh.
Most people would probably take this as a sign to find happiness in what they already have. I’m not most people.
My plan? Survive the occasional face plant caused by a lone heel for the next few months, then make sure my next residence has more of a Carrie-appropriate sized closet. Sheer brilliance.