Thursday, September 13, 2012

Mary Flood has a very unique voice and, as she says, a diamond mine of memories in her past.


 Sole Searching
By

Mary Flood


Shoes have always been a problem for me.  I have big feet.  They are not freakishly big given the fact that I am six feet tall, but just big enough to make buying shoes a challenge.

When I was a kid and my feet were growing, I remember my mother’s exasperation when she would take me to buy shoes and the only things in my size had high heels.  My mother would say to the salesman, “But she’s just a little girl.” He would shrug his shoulders as if to say, “It’s not my fault your seven year old has clown feet.”

The one pair of shoes I always looked forward to buying was my tap shoes.  No matter what size foot you had, everyone in tap class had the same shoes: black patent leather with grosgrain ribbon.  They were shiny and made you dance like Ginger Rogers or  Eleanor Powell. It got better come recital time when you took gold or silver paint to them so they would match your costume.  Whoever came up with the idea to add glitter to the paint was a genius.

Alas, even my tap shoes ended up being a problem.  As I reached adolescence, my classmates started showing up in high heeled tap shoes.  Perfect, right?  Well, no, because by then my feet had grown so much they didn’t make the high heeled tap shoes big enough. Back to square one.

I have made peace with the fact that I will never wear Manolo Blahniks or snap up shoe bargains or develop a shoe fetish.  That sometimes makes me feel out of step with the sisterhood.  As for tap shoes, the last pair I bought when I returned to tap dancing a few years ago were black leather, not patent leather or high heeled.  They were men’s black leather tap shoes and it’s hard to feel like Ginger Rogers when you’re wearing Fred Astaire’s shoes.

Copyright 2012© Mary Flood

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