Stepping into some major shoes

When I was a sophomore in college, I flew down to Florida to spend spring break with my grandparents. I know it's not exactly the MTV/Girls Gone Wild scene you'd imagine I'd be into (that would wait til Senior year) but I spent seven days doing nothing but sleeping, suntanning, soap opera watching, and letting my Grandma take me clothes shopping. It was a pretty nice life. Joe Francis should be so lucky.

Early in the week and in our shopping, I found these AMAZING Steve Madden shoes. These were black-trimmed, white patent leather platform wedge sandals. Possibly suitable for a Bee Gee, or maybe, a Spice Girl. It was 1996 and I LOVED them.

But they were kind of expensive. More than I had ever spent on shoes before, and more than I felt comfortable asking my grandmother to pay for. Til then, most of our purchases consisted of Keds, jelly sandals, the occasional Tretorn tennie. I wasn't quite ready to initiate her into shopping for "sorority shoes." Instead I tried them on, gazed longingly at their shiny newness and staggering height, and put them back on the shelf where I reluctantly decided they belonged.

"If you really want them," my grandma offered, "I'll buy them for you."

"No, that's okay." I wasn't being passive aggressive. I was just starting to develop my own fashion sense at that point, and even I wasn't convinced I should get them. Who was I, I thought? I couldn't let her buy me something my responsible side thought might be frivolous.

I spent the week thinking about those shoes. In my head, I matched them to outfits already in my closet, pictured the envy of my friends when I would bring them back to school. Nothing else I saw in the stores, compared, and my Grandma sensed my loss. "We're going back," she declared, on my last day in town. "I haven't seen you light up over anything the way you did those shoes, and what is a Grandma for, if not to spoil her first grandchild?"

We went back to Burdines and thankfully, they were still there, meant to be mine. I did become the envy of my friends, even though the white patent leather scuffed after the first wear. But I treasured them every time I wore them. They quickly became a part of the new stylish self I was growing into, and I couldn't imagine myself or my spring semester without them.

Since then, that has always been my marker for major purchases: If I leave it in the store and forget all about it, I definitely didn't need it in the first place. But if I'm still daydreaming about it days later? Worth going back for a second look.

Which is why I went back to the condo tonight. I have been thinking about it non-stop since Sunday, and how much I could actually see myself there. In my head I was already placing the furniture, feeling sad thinking it would go to someone else. I know Mercury is retrograde and I'm going to Peru and my stock guy said to wait. But I have this feeling like it just might fit, and I think it might be worth making an offer.

Gulp.