I wish I could say that my Slides and I had a “saw you across the room- heart pounding- love at first sight” type of introduction. But we most certainly did not. My first thoughts about you (and I’ll address you at this point directly, my Slides) – my thoughts were two simple words: Shower Shoes. To be fair, I was visiting a friend in college in New England and the showers were shared. I watched as woman after woman waltzed in wearing you and I thought- no thanks.
I’ve never been someone to go with the trends. When everyone else was wearing flare jeans, I was going to school dressed in vintage clothes from my grandma’s basement. So the fact that everyone worshipped you kept me at an arm’s length (like Lost). Your popularity, Slides, showed no sign of stopping. A few years ago in fact, you had a huge boost, being worn by fashion “influensters.” You would pop up, across thousands of Instagram squares, worn by a fashion blogger wearing a flowy dress, or a pleated skirt, or a short romper, and you.
I finally caved right before quarantine. Here in Los Angeles, we’d been hearing rumors that a shutdown was coming, and I was doing a last minute dash to Trader Joe’s, Petco and Nordstrom Rack. As I walked the aisles, rushing, sort of numb and unsure what the future would hold, I came across a huge display of…YOU.
I picked up a pair. There wasn’t enough time to fully take you in, the lightness of you. The way the plastic is molded at such a nice angle to really cradle the foot. I just had to grab you in my basket and jet.
It was during quarantine that I could really fall in love with you.
You have been with me for every dog walk, every time I go outside to give my toddler some air. I can walk surprisingly fast in you, which is great, as my child, at eighteen months, now has the speed of an Olympic sprinter but the steadiness of a drunk eighteen year old. You, my sweet slides, are there when I have given myself a (very awkward) pedicure, and you are there when I need to do some light gardening (aka trying to save the basil, sage and lavender plants from being fried by the sun). You are there when a sprinkler goes on midday and the whole family runs outside for a little refreshment. It takes me less than a second to slip you on. Time me. I promise.
You, my boos, are the shoes I reach for first. The shoes I reach for always. So maybe it wasn’t a bodice ripper for us, but it has certainly been a quirky rom-com, and you have slid into my life with comfort, grace and especially ease.
Maybe it’s time to give Lost another shot.