Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
‘It never rains but it pours’—isn’t that how the saying goes? We’ve had no decent rain for months and months and this week we have been deluged. I’ve literally been paddling around the back garden.
That’s not a complaint though—we’ve desperately needed the rain . . . and at least I’ve had the right ‘shoes’ for the job . . .
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
You know what I was thinking about most of yesterday? My feet. Seriously. I was thinking about how much of my life I must have spent dealing with tired, aching, sore feet. I mean—supposing it were even possible to calculate such a thing—what would that equate to in hours . . . days . . . months . . . years?
It’s not as if I were even wearing horribly uncomfortable shoes—they were, in fact, one of my oldest and most comfy pairs—but at some point yesterday I became suddenly aware that all I was thinking about (seriously—nothing else going on in my brain at all) was how I could not wait to get in my own front door and kick my shoes off ( . . . and my bra too actually but that’s probably TMI for this particular post . . . )
Sadly it seems, no matter how much I might wish otherwise, gone are the days when I could don my high heels at 7.00am, run around in them all day (literally), pop into the supermarket on the way home to do a bit of grocery shopping and still feel able to stand around and gossip with one of my neighbours for half an hour at the end of the day. These days I barely make it to lunchtime before I become increasingly aware (as my old dad used to say ) ‘my dogs are barking‘ . . .
But the thing is—I love my heels. I really do. I have always owned flat shoes of course (who doesn’t?) but no matter how cute they are, for me flats have always been for schleping around at home, or going to the movies (navigating all those steps in heels in the dark—I don’t think so), or walking the dogs. They’ve never been ‘proper’ shoes. Heels make me feel taller and slimmer and . . . dressed. That’s it I think. I have never considered myself properly dressed unless I’m wearing a fabulous pair of heels.
What to do, what to do? I know what you’re going to say—I should stop wearing my heels right now and give myself a break, right?
Well, I think we all know that’s not going to happen. (I mean, seriously?)
But I do think a compromise might be in order. I think I might just be able to convince myself to buy a couple (or three or four) more pairs of extra-cute flats that might nicely complement the heels I already have. Then I could wear my beloved heels for part of the day and surreptitiously swap them out for a similar (flatter) pair when I feel the need to give my aching tootsies a rest. What do you reckon?
Sounds like a fine plan to me . . .
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
Amen to that!!
(I have three pairs of red shoes . . . and one pair of orange . . . and two pairs of blue . . . and several pairs of multi coloured . . . and six pairs of black . . . and two pairs of grey and . . . well . . . you get the idea . . . )
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
I don’t think the question ‘Can I run in these?’ was one I ever asked myself when considering the purchase of a new pair of shoes (except maybe for sneakers, although possibly not even then if they were really cute). In fact, looking back at some of the shoes I have worn over the years I am not sure that even being able to walk in them was much of a consideration either.
I’ve always had a thing for shoes and I’ve pretty much had them all—flats, ballets, heels, boots, sandals, clogs, platforms, wedges, strappy, buckled, lace-ups and peep-toes.
And why not? Shoes really are a necessity. No matter what else you are wearing you do still need shoes. Flats, ballets, or sneakers for everyday wear, heels for work or special occasions, sandals for the summer, boots for the winter. And of course you have to think about different colours and styles as well because they have to ‘go’ with the clothes that you already have. (Unless of course you buy the shoes first and then buy an outfit to match them—but that’s a whole other thing . . .) Anyway, it has always seemed entirely reasonable to me to have (at least) a dozen or so pair of shoes to choose from.
(One set of statistics I saw states that most women admit to owning at least 10 pairs of shoes, and one in every 12 women claims to have over 100 pairs. I imagine the words ‘admit to owning’ allows plenty of wiggle-room here.)
I haven’t actually counted how many pairs of shoes I own at the moment but I can tell you it is more than 10 and a lot less than 100 (remember I have been downsizing lately) but it is absolutely sure and certain that I do not need to buy another pair of shoes any time soon.
It also absolutely sure and certain that when it comes to the purchase of a new pair of shoes need has very little to do with it . . .
I was looking for something in my wardrobe the other day when it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t bought a new pair of shoes in months and months and months. Now this may not seem like a big thing to you lovely readers out there, but this realisation was somewhat of a watershed moment for me. Did I actually need to buy a new pair of shoes over the last few months—absolutely not. I know for a fact there are shoes in my wardrobe right now that have hardly ever been worn. But, if I’m being really honest here, when it comes to shoes (and, sigh, handbags) ‘need’ never really came into it.
(Shoes, handbags and puppies—you can never have too many—that was my mantra—although I hasten to add I was always much more responsible when it came to the puppies . . .)
So why such a watershed moment? A couple of years ago it began to dawn on me that I had far too many possessions for just one person. (I swear the foundations of the house were starting to sag.) I had (literally) hundreds and hundreds of books, and although I loved them all, some (most) of them had not been cracked opened in years. I also had drawers full of cds I never listened to, dvds I never watched, boxes full of arty stuff I never used (okay glad I saved that as, yay, am using it now) and wardrobes stuffed with old or unused linen, clothes, shoes, and enough handbags to start my own store. Not to mention all manner of odd broken bits and pieces that had started to gather together in the garage, along with bucket loads of ‘I-won’t-throw-that-away-just-yet-as-I-might-need-it-later’ stuff. I was starting to suffocate under the weight of it all.
And then I came across The Minimalists —two young guys writing about how to live a great life with less stuff. The answer to all my prayers—right? Well—yes and no. Although I have always liked the sound of minimalism, and I love the philosophy behind it—I also know that I really like a lot of my stuff too. Owning less than 100 things was never really going to be a viable option for me. But the more I read the more I came to realise that it did not have to be an all-or-nothing thing—there could be a happy medium—and over the next couple of years I made slow but serious inroads into divesting myself of a lot of my extraneous stuff.
I gave most of my books to Rotary and even managed to not buy more to replace them. (Well, not ‘proper’ books anyway. My Kindle now needs two hands to lift it but it doesn’t take up any more space than it ever did.) I cleared out wardrobes and drawers and gave away bags and bags of clothing (and, yes, even shoes), linen, crockery, ornaments and the like to the local Op Shops. I’ve thrown away boxes full of ‘WTF did I hang on to that for’ paraphernalia, and even (Sssshhhh—not so loud) managed to bin some of the oldest, most decrepit (and smelliest) doggie toys without them being missed (Maudie probably still thinks they are hidden in her ‘special place’ in the back yard . . . )
Did I miss any of the stuff I got rid of? Maybe. For about a minute. Out of sight out of mind. In fact I was happily surprised at how much I didn’t miss it. That doesn’t mean, of course, that I wasn’t tempted to buy more things—old habits die hard (and there are so many pretty shoes out there) so before I start to sound all holier-than-thou, let me assure that if I was to try to move into a tiny house today, I would possibly the only one alive towing a tiny house, two garages and a garden shed . . . .
So, still very much a work in progress and that’s okay. Little by slow works for me. I have had a couple of days off work this week and have used some of that time to do a bit more clearing out (it feels a bit like spring cleaning, but it can’t be that ‘cos it’s freezing outside) and I am still finding myself constantly surprised at how much I can look at and say ‘I wonder why I didn’t get rid of that before?’ (Could it possibly be because the local council only sees fit to provide us with teeny-tiny rubbish bins and then only allows the bin-men to come and empty said teeny-tiny bins once a fortnight? Mmmmm . . . )
Anyway, I have decided that ‘Less is More’ is my new mantra (although . . . the puppies . . . sigh ) Whether or not I will be able to stick to that for the long haul it is anybody’s guess, but I have started and hope to go on. I know I will be sorely tested later today as my friend Pammy and I are going down to Forster for a day’s shopping—and I do still love to shop.
Perhaps it will be okay if I only buy teeny-tiny things that will fit in my future teeny-tiny house . . .
Sally says . . . eat, sleep, work, read, play, draw, bark . . . 