Gabriel,

I took you shoes on a walk along Embarcadero on my way home from work on Friday. It hadn’t been a particularly long or grueling day at work, but by the time I laced up your shoes I felt exhausted. It was the kind of tired that you get after a week of working normal hours every day and staying up just a little bit past your bedtime. I suppose it was a cumulative tiredness. Nevertheless, I walked past my trolley stop and kept walking.

You told me that you got these shoes (well, this brand of shoe) to impress a girl.  If I remember correctly, you were working on the early stages of a film and she auditioned for a role.  She was wearing a jacket with the same logo on it as the shoes I’m now wearing.  You bought these shoes after meeting her so that she would be impressed by your good taste, but she flaked on the film and never even had the chance to notice your shoes.  I can tell that these shoes have served you well, even if they haven’t helped you get a date (or maybe you didn’t tell me that story). They are so well broken in that I never got sore, even though my feet slid around in them like trying to walk in shoeboxes.  A little piece of the fabric covering the insole in your right shoe was curled up from use.  Maybe you don’t notice it when you wear these shoes, because it’s probably under the center of your foot.  It was right underneath my big toe, and I couldn’t help but play with it as I walked.

You bought these shoes with image in mind.  They look good, are probably pretty comfortable, and send a message about your buying choices to potential love interests. Normally, I wear what’s comfortable on my feet; I’ve never been able to wear shoes that only look good.  The job that I was walking home from is the first job that I have had to think about what I wear to work.  When combined with my work clothes, the image that your shoes gave me is something quite different from the hip, urban look they might impart to you. So, as I walked along Embarcadero, I imagined the tourist’s or jogger’s double take as they passed a girl wearing enormous casual brown men’s shoes with her stockings, cute yet demure skirt, blouse, and tailored jacket.

That walk took forever. There were some very cinematic parts of the walk; there were times that the world seemed to rush by, as I barely moved. Plodding along in your flippers, I relished the time that I actually overtook the family of Midwestern tourists. And I was glad to sit down when it was over.

Thank you for the opportunity to walk a mile in your shoes.

 

Sincerely,
Sara, shoe borrower