Walking Tall

Womanish: African American colloquialism (mostly in the South) for a young girl who is acting too grown; a designation usually given by the elder women in the community who predict that such a young girl will soon become the town’s next wild woman.

I consider myself to be fairly conservative, and though I have often admired the stylish flair other women seem to naturally possess, my wardrobe has always been safe and quiet, a classic look (I think). Or so it was until that historic and fateful day when I walked into Macy’s Department Store and a pair of anything other than quiet shoes fairly shrieked out my name. I did not equivocate when they called. I did not falter. I rushed to buy those shoes before my sensible side kicked in. I had to possess them (or did they possess me?). Those shoes were bold and brash and very self-assertive. This was the beginning of my love affair with what I now call my WOMANISH! Shoes.

Those black pointy-toed four-inch heel kick the door in look out world I’m coming through shoes took hold of my soul. Every time I slipped my feet into those shoes and pulled those leather straps up and across my insteps (just a whisper above bewitching ankles) to unite them with the tasteful silver buckles that hovered over sensual bare-naked heels, my feet arched and a deep throated baritone whispered in my ear, “Oooo Baby, they look good on you!”

In those shoes I was no longer a rather dumpy rolling down the hill towards senior citizen land woman. Instead I was a thirty-something (twenty-something is too young for these shoes) self-assured Diva, whose mere entree into any room turned all the men into blithering idiots (whatever a blither is) while the women who were all Cinderella before I walked through the door turned into pumpkins as I made my magnificent arrival.

Those shoes made the ring around my waist disappear; they elongated my neck, and the curves of my youth that had acquiesced to gravity years ago immediately snapped back into place with alacrity and panache. In a flash I was smart and tres chic, a stylish, witty and brilliant female bon vivant whom everyone wanted to know.

My WOMANISH! Shoes turned my everyday much too loud and common laugh into a head thrown back scintillating sparkle that trilled its way past dazzling white teeth through slightly open and slightly moist, red glazed lips. Those shoes made me want to throw my head from side to side while I danced, hollered and “shook a groove thing.”

I bought my first pair of WOMANISH! Shoes before my husband, who was a pastor, died. The first Sunday I wore them, I walked into church just a little self-conscious. As I slipped quietly into the pew, a good deacon walked over to me. He looked at my feet, raised his eyebrows and smiled rather suggestively (I thought). I had barely recovered from that unexpected reaction when another well-behaved brother walked by, nodded at my feet and said, with a glint in his eye (I thought), “Nice shoes.” That is when the reality of WOMANISH! Shoes hit me:

“These shoes have as much power for me as that old geezer’s red sports car with the young trophy wife in the passenger seat has for him. Not only do these shoes have power, they empower the wearer to the point where confidence overrides any insecurity and the wearer walks just a little bit taller."

Still, since I was a married woman back then, whenever anyone commented on my shoes (mostly men), I would do my best to smile demurely, say “thank-you” and pretend that I was not even aware of the fact that they were WOMANISH! Shoes.

After my husband died, I upped the ante on the shoes. I went WOMANISH! Shoe shopping with a vengeance, which may have been a by-product of my grief. Today, whenever I wear a pair from my collection, I make sure that the people who knew me when my husband was alive (during my conservative heyday) know now that I bought my very first pair before my he died, especially since it is now mostly women who comment and say “my, how you’ve changed.” Yes, one just has to stop those shoe rumors before they start . . .sometimes.

SOME THINGS TO KNOW ABOUT WOMANISH! SHOES

WOMANISH! Shoes never lack for confidence.
WOMANISH! Shoes make a $10 grab bag dress look like “haughty” couture.
WOMANISH! Shoes take life’s challenges one step at a time.
WOMANISH! Shoes can praise God standing up.
WOMANISH! Shoes know the way.
WOMANISH! Shoes mean what they say, but they are never mean.
WOMANISH! Shoes are never self-conscious.
WOMANISH! Shoes may have attitude, but they are never vain.
WOMANISH! Shoes always know what to say and how and when to say it.
WOMANISH! Shoes never give up.
WOMANISH! Shoes can walk the red carpet without thinking they are "the bomb."
WOMANISH! Shoes are always ready to dance.
WOMANISH! Shoes never worry about their age.
WOMANISH! Shoes walk by faith.
WOMANISH! Shoes can be worn by a woman who can delight in the Lord
and
still know her stilettos look good on her.

It is so true. I was never a shoe person back in the day. Until my shoe epiphany, my shoe wardrobe consisted of sensible black shoes, shoes that all looked the same, boring black shoes that were comfortable and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I did not want, or covet, the attention WOMANISH! Shoes brought to the wearer of said shoes. I have always been too concerned about what people thought of me. But today, I am most definitely a WOMANISH! Shoe wearer and I am constantly on the hunt for the next pair (think cheetah design with a four or five inch black heel; let me know if you see them out there). Besides, it doesn’t hurt to keep my public wondering. After all, wonderful and marvelous things do happen in me when I slip into those WOMANISH! Shoes.

This I do swear and so affirm, so help me Macy’s, Nordstrom’s, and all those purveyors of those wonderful and glorious WOMANISH! Shoes.