Women
Final Thoughts

Overall Score 0

The Death of My Designer Shoes


It was Wednesday at 6:45am in the morning and I had just woken up to my blaring alarm clock with sun sneaking in through the edges of my curtains.  Gently curled up in my smooth comforters, I craved for my freshly brewed coffee to start my day.  I had a pleasant night’s rest, yet woke up with a terrible tickle in my throat from an oncoming cold, but that wasn’t going to put a damper on my day; I had organized myself the night before.

The soft pastel lavender pants and detailed white silk Zara blouse was laid out on the chair in the corner of the room, next to my favourite jewelry and Marni shoes.  Now, if you want to know how to start yourself off to a great morning, this was how you should do it.

After some time, I sauntered out of bed, went about my daily ritual and made my way to the corner of the bedroom.  I slipped on the soft lavender pants, and blouse, which seamlessly felt like it could melt through your fingers.  Then I loaded up on bracelets and rings.  Finally, my favourite – simple, yet incredibly soft open toe platform shoes made of leather and thick wooden heels, lifting me off of the ground. I literally felt taller, prouder and more importantly, on top of the world.

“…stared at it for a few seconds, nodding my head in disbelief, as they passed just as quickly as I had fallen in love with them.”

As I left my flat, the elated feeling followed me.  I was light-footed, gliding with one foot after another towards my car.  And then the most horrifying thing happened; I came across uneven pavement – the sworn enemy of the deliciously stacked Marni heels.  Unconsciously, I stepped right into the construction zone and there I was, throwing my arms into the air, eyes wide, one leg over the other, tumbling towards the cement.  The look of fear and embarrassment formed across my face as I struggled to catch myself before finding myself planting face first into the ground.

With God’s gift of my childhood tomboy-ish athleticism, I tumbled forward with two enormous steps and in one quick breath, planted my left leg solidly onto the ground, pulling myself against gravity, twisting my right foot… not once, but twice, only to save my lips from making out with the ground. Now, you’d think I’d die of embarrassment now, but at the time, I was just terribly shocked and relieved.  That is, until my eyes dropped towards my feet and my heart sunk.  The glamorous shoe reaper swept in just moments before and viciously took the life of my Marni’s right in front of my car.  I refused to falter.  I stood up tall and immediately continued my stride, dragging my right leg as though nothing happened, but my incredibly bright day had a dark cloud over it.  I knew they could not be easily saved by even by the best cobbler in a 50 mile radius.  They’d never be the same. And so, I climbed into my car, took off the Marni on my right food and stared at it for a few seconds, nodding my head in disbelief, as they passed just as quickly as I had fallen in love with them.

“They are an extension of who we are, what we stand for and who we want to be.”

You’d think that shoes are just material goods, but they really have so much more meaning to them.  They are an extension of who we are, what we stand for and who we want to be.  They express how much we respect ourselves and others around us, and how soft, creative, quiet, strong or bold we truly are.  I could replace them, but I’d like to believe that it was their time to go and my time to evolve.

Founded by Consuelo Castiglioni in 1994 and named after her sister, Marni is an Italian label that designs a wide range of accessories for men and women.  Known for producing quirky ready-to-wear apparel using an abundance of creative and beuatiful patterns, the avant-garde clothing is wearable and fun. With his familly history at CiwiFurs, don’t be surprised to find Gianni Castiglioni, husband of Consuelo & CEO of Marni, incorporate beautiful fur pieces and accents to the Fall/Winter RTW collections.

 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.