March 2, 2004 - 5:28 p.m.

My shoes have disintegrated. Really.

As I have gone through the day, they have slowly dissolved. This morning I pulled a pair of shoes I had not worn in a long while (a very long while apparently) from the back of my closet. Black, suede ballet shoe-like flats. Very comfortable. Very chic and fab.

When I put them on I wondered why I didn�t wear them more often. Why had I forsaken them? My forgetfulness has a price. Who knew that shoes dry rotted? Well, now I do.

It started this morning on my drive to work when something just didn�t feel quite right. As I got out of the car, I noticed the leather soles had pulled away from the suede, and there, looking up at me forlornly were my very un-pedicured toes. So, I quickly came inside the office and did what any smart, creative gal would do. I patched them back together with packing tape. Whistle while you work. Crinkle while you walk. It's all the same really.

I have a small space heater under my desk. Packing tape does not like space heaters. I now own some terrific alternating suede and leather shreds (Hey! headbands!), swathed in sticky, semi-melted packing tape.

My grandmother used to tell me stories about how her family had no money and how poor they were. Things had to last. They patched clothing and handed it down. They patched shoes and wore them long past when they had been outgrown. I imagine her shoes looked much, much better than these.

Trust me when I tell you that�s really saying something ya'll.

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� Purplecigar

�

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