The shoes that started it all

Everyone has a vice. Some people drown their sorrows with a drink. Others roll their stresses away with a toss of a dice. Me? I shoe my troubles away…but if we’re being honest, sometimes it’s not troubles that I’m just shoe-ing away.

While I admit I’ve been caught hauled up in dressing rooms binging on boots in the past, I’ve also flip-flopped for fun and heel-ed in some happiness…

My name is Emily Thurlow and I like shoes. A lot.

Although I wouldn’t consider it a problem to have more shoes than days in a year or a shoe rack in my apartment where a couch should [traditionally] be – hey, I want options – it became all the more apparent that maybe I do have a touch of oniomania here and there, when folks throughout the communities I served started identifying me as the “reporter with the shoes.” To be exact, much like Dorothy, the ones that immediately demanded that attention were my ruby slippers.

But, in my defense, work often fuels my habit even more so than usual. Some times I just NEED a pair to complete an outfit or replace a fallen accessory.

I mean, I wasn’t expecting to have to dash out of the office to a rope rescue the day I sported my green espadrilles. I had to fling them off to the side while I leaned against a tree for a closer shot of the scene. When they were returned to my feet, they had scuffs from the rocks that I had so carelessly hurled them at.

I also didn’t plan on a rogue storm carrying torrential rain to muddy-up my Mary Janes. Or even that time when that case of fatigue struck at the very moment a divot in the pavement appeared right in front of my walking path, thus snapping the straps of my sandals. May they rest in pieces.

Whether it’s bad luck, lack of planning or just an act of chance, my shoes have carried me to some interesting happenings for both my penned professional and personal worlds. With so many stories under my feet that don’t hit the regular deadlines, I figured that this column could be a way to share just that.