Serendipity
By Joanne Marie Combong-Pijuan

My big fat shoe fetish

There comes a time in a writer's life when there's absolutely nothing left to write or talk about but one's quirky obsession. Forget profundity, abstrusity, or depth. I'm not going to try to impress people with my great intellect or deliver a socially relevant write up today in this column. So my apologies to you readers who expect me to dish out something Oprah-esque, inspirational, or intellectual (as if I ever did in the first place – hah!). Because today, I am just a girl, writing about my big, fat shoe fetish. Nothing more, nothing less. Shallow and frivolous, I will be.

I cannot exactly pinpoint when and how, but I'll make a good guess and say that my obsession for shoes probably started when I was 16. After graduating from High School and the ubiquitous Greg shoes (never mind that they weighed a ton but they were de rigueur according to Assumptionista fashion), I went off to Manila and discovered a whole new world filled with – yes, you guessed it right -- shoes!

I remember going to Sari-Sari Store for the first time and was instantly engulfed by this warm, exhilarating feeling when I saw more than 50 pairs of shoes on display. After more than a decade of wearing black school shoes, my feet finally found what they were looking for -- fancy, comfortable, and stylish shoes of all shapes, sizes, and colors. I went back to my dorm room that day lugging two boxes. I bought a pointy, suede, purple slip-on / mule and shocking red, suede flats.

I got both praises and sneers every time I wore those shoes probably because during that time, there were only two kinds of people in the UP campus: the Cole Haan, penny loafer-wearing preppies and the sandaled “ tibaks” . I was neither. I was the eccentric “ promdi” who had the gall to wear purple granny looking shoes and red suede flats that you can see all the way to the College of Tourism (if you're from UPD, you'd get the drift). I realized then that no matter what people's reactions were, be it negative or positive, if you want to make an impression or a statement – the shoes will definitely do it.

I realized how fanatically fixated I was when I packed a balikbayan box cramped with shoes when I went to the states last May. I think I brought more than 20 pairs along with me and bought 10 more there. The irony of it is that I never got to wear them because I was in my Gap flip-flops and Mickey Mouse “ smagol ” the whole time. The last time I counted, I had close to a 100 pairs of shoes and gave out more than 2 dozen pairs for lack of space. I don't know if you could call me “Imeldific”, but I think I'm still a few hundreds away from being Mrs. Marcos's clone.

So why do I love shoes? Well, for a lot of reasons. I love how they represent my moods, my quirks, and my personality; how they could give me power, height, and leverage (try wearing 4-inch stilettos and you'll know what I mean); how they can make a statement and an impression; how they can make a drabby pair of jeans go vavoom; how they can elevate your social status (for the social climbing set try wearing Manolos instead of your usual white platforms and you might get somewhere); how they can perfectly complement an outfit; and how they just look so unbelievably hot and fabulous on my feet! I can give you a hundred reasons more, but my column space is as limited as my closet shoe space.

And so, to all you stiletto/pump/sandal/flip-flop/mule/slip-on/boot loafer/moccasin/espadrille/slingback/sneaker – wearing, shoe-obsessed girls – I leave you with one of my “Sex and the City” favorite shoe quotables:

Carrie, <after being told to take off her shoes>: But... this is an outfit!

Well, if you don't understand what Carrie meant by that, you don't have a big, fat shoe fetish, dahling! J