Secondhand Sunday

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


Original Post Date, March 21, 2009

"I hate patent leather," my sister stated as we walked back to our respective offices after lunch. We work in the same hospital and have lunch together most days.

"I love patent leather. I'm wearing a new pair today." I replied as I glanced down at my shiny black shoes.

"I know. I hate it. I mean, it's okay on you. But I hate it."

Chrissy celebrates turning two

I've always loved patent leather ever since my mother bought me a pair for my second birthday. Okay, obviously I don't remember that long ago but I'm trying to drive the point that I've liked patent for a long time.

I've never really been one of those "shoe people" you hear about. I don't go crazy for shoe sales and I can pass by a shoe store with nary a glance. I have about 8 pairs of shoes and I don't buy a new pair until my old ones wear out.

I had a pair of patent shoes that I wore until they were so stretched out that I kept walking out of them. I realized I had to replace them when I was running to catch the shuttle bus from the parking garage at work and tumbled down the steps in front of the stopped bus because I had slipped out of one of my shoes.

I quickly shot back up, put my shoe back on and boarded the bus, thanking everyone for stopping for me. I casually sat down so as not to draw any more attention to myself and bit the inside of my cheek to circumvent the excrutiating pain in my ankle.

Maybe I just twisted it, I thought to myself as I made the trek to my office on the opposite side of the campus. It was no use, by the time I got there, my foot and ankle were already starting to swell so I limped back to the opposite side of the campus to have it checked out.

The nurse was very pleasant and pointed out that "fancy shoes" really had no place on the campus since there was so much construction going on. I glanced down at her sensible nun shoes and nodded in agreement that I would certainly take that into consideration in the future.

"We need to be sure you didn't fracture anything so let's send you for an x-ray."

"Okay, no problem," I started to head for the door and asked the nurse for directions to radiology.

"Oh, no. We need to call transport and have them take you there in a wheelchair."

Geez. As if it wasn't bad enough that I had already wasted an hour waiting for the nurse. Now I would have to wait for transport and then make the journey as "patient" through my place of employment.

Luckily, the wait wasn't long and "Dave" knew of all the shortcuts I never would have taken. As we headed down one long hallway, we passed by a woman walking slowly, head down, wearing a black hooded coat. She was singing.

"Nobody knowwwss the trouble I've seen..."

I wanted to yell out, "Amen, Sista!" but I restrained myself.

It turned out I had nothing more than a sprain but it was enough to make things tough to get around for a while. shoe shopping so this wouldn't happen again.

I walked into the shoe store last week, one of those self serve types, and started weaving in and out of the aisles, waiting for something to catch my fancy.

Then I saw them. A pair of black patent pumps with a 2" heel and (gasp) a sale sign. It was like a beam of light from heaven was shining down on them and they beckoned me to try them on. I felt like Cinderella as my foot slid into my slippers and I knew we were destined to be together. My Prince Charming was a shoe clerk named Juan who gently wrapped them up and bid us adieu.

I actually think my affinity for patent leather shoes started about the time my love for Shirley Temple hit it's peak. Every week after Sunday school, I would eagerly bound for the car knowing that the Sunday matinee would start on TV soon and it was usually a Shirley Temple flick. I had no concept that this ringlet haired, tap dancing, patent leather shoe wearing sweetie was about 45 in 1973 when I was watching her.

My family didn't share my affection for Bright Eyes and would make me take my lunch on a TV tray into my parent's bedroom to watch the movie. They had a large dresser with a mirror on top and the TV sat on the left hand corner of the dresser. I would sing along to "On the Good Ship Lollipop" and watch myself in the mirror, pretending that I was a star, too. Kind of like what I do now with Mariah Carey songs.

I even drank Shirley Temple's when we would make our bi-monthly trip to the Brown Derby for dinner. A Shirley Temple was a non-alcoholic drink made with ginger ale, grenadine syrup and orange juice and it was garnished with a maraschino cherry and an orange slice on the rim of the glass. Such sophistication for a 7 year old! Thanks, Shirley.

So do black patent leather shoes really reflect up? I sure hope so. I can use all the help I can get.


  1. You really tore thru those packages didnt you?

    I never really cared for Shirley. Sunday matinee here was usually Tarzan.

  2. Hey Chrissy! Man, you'll probably get some weird traffic from this blog for mentioning patent shoes and Shirley Temple. Speaking of which, I owe you a mail, I think? Indigo x

  3. I recently went to dinner with a couple of grown men--one of whom ordered a Shirley Temple, without a trace of irony. I hadn't thought about a Shirley Temple in probably 20+ years and now that's twice in a couple of weeks!

  4. @Simply Suthern,
    I still have that voracity when opening gifts!

    I know. I haven't done one of those searches lately. I'm sure the freaks will be out. I think I owe YOU one, actually.

    That is SO funny! Did the server even know what that was??

  5. As someone who regularly sprains ankles, I admire your commitment to patent as shown by buying a pair with 2 inch heels after falling in front of that bus! LOL!

    Now I want a 'Shirley Temple'!

  6. @Jay at the Dep Effect,
    I figure, I'm going to trip whether I'm wearing flats or heels so I may as well look stylish on the way down.

    I hear you can still get them at some restaurants if the bartender is old enough!


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