Window Shop-a-holic

Wearing stilettos to an undergrad class is criminal.

The sidewalks in Toronto are skating rinks today and I decided to wear heels to work. My difficult skate to work reminded me of the one and only day I chose vanity over practicality during my undergrad years.

It was a frigid day in 2004 and I remember getting ready for a 10am lecture. The 10am part wouldn’t be so bad however, I was commuting an hour each way to get to the city. Nonetheless, I decide that I want to feel pretty that day so I started by sneaking into my younger and much thinner sister’s room to rummage her drawers for a pair of jeans that I loved. I did the whole squirm into the jeans and suck-in-until-I’m-about-to-pass-out move and was proud of my success. The final accessory to this ‘I’m so beautiful’ look was a pair of round-toe suede Charles David stilettos in black with a little white trim and a bow. 

Within seven minutes of getting out of the car and walking to the Go Train platform, my feet were aching. I refused to be one of those women who look like they’re in severe pain and start limping around. Instead, I quietly prayed that I’d get a seat on the train so I wouldn’t have to stand the whole way downtown. I don’t remember what ended up happening seat-wise so maybe I actually did get a seat. 

I was not able to pay for both a Metropass and a Go Transit pass so most often I would walk from Union to Ryerson. Luckily, PATH became my best friend and like a mole I scurried around down there and knew it like the back of my hand. 

By the time I get to the part of my journey where I inevitably have to go outside, I’m sure that I’m doing that dreaded limping motion. Now I’m outside: it’s half snowing, half raining. It is also very cold and very windy. My suede shoes were now getting wet and I was slipping and limping everywhere. 

I finally made it to the lecture hall; at this point my hair is dishevelled, my nose is running, my jeans are really cutting into my waist and my shoes are wet and likely ruined. I thought logically about my next move; should I walk down the treacherous steps to sit with my friends or should I play it safe and sit at the back to avoid a disastrous fall. I sat through the two-hour lecture relying on MSN Messenger to alleviate the feeling of being lonely. I hadn’t yet learned that independence was an okay thing. 

After class, I waited for my friends to get to the top of the room and we decided to go get a snack before the next class. I hobbled behind them like a hunched-over bag lady while they gracefully strolled ahead in their reasonable footwear. 

No one said anything about my shoes that day. Perhaps they really didn’t like the shoes at all or (OMG) they just didn’t notice. Whatever the case, I got home that night and carefully removed my ruined shoes. I drew a bath and reflected on the tumultuous day I’d survived. I vowed to never wear heels to University ever again. 

And so began my whirlwind romance with UGGS.