My mother was always one of those women who had to have the right pair of shoes for each outfit. She had sandals, high-heels, boots, slip-ons, and much more. My sisters and I would tease her about her collection, especially when we found out that our father had to leave his shoes in the hallway because there was no more room in their closet.
However, my mother’s fascination with shoes went beyond those she could actually wear. She collected small, decorative shoes and had them displayed all over the house. It drove my father crazy, but it made her happy, so he let it ride.
Most of her collection came from friends and family who would find a shoe on one of their travels and bring it back to her. One of her best friends found a small, Delft ceramic clog hand-painted with a little Dutch girl carrying buckets on a pole across her shoulders. Her friend had found it at a flea market and only paid a couple of bucks for it. But it was one of Mom’s favorites and sparked another of her collections, Delft Blue porcelain.
One of my favorite pieces in her collection was a bar of soap. Well, rather, a shoe of soap, made by Avon. My mother had found it at a garage sale, still in the box. I think she paid a quarter for it, as the decorative bow that came with it was missing. She didn’t care. It sat on a shelf in her bathroom, and she’d threaten anyone who wanted to use it as actual soap.
After my mother passed away, I inherited her collection. I’d forgotten how many shoes she had, and noticed a few more that I’d never seen. Someone had crocheted her a little shoe, as well as a little teacup and saucer. They were adorable. Someone else had gotten her a ceramic high-heeled shoe with Betty Boop on it. Probably my sister, as she collects Betty Boop stuff.
Mom had gotten a little glass display case for some of her shoes. The back was a mirror, and it was very ornate. Knowing Mom, she got it at a garage sale or thrift shop. But it made her collection of decorative shoes look amazing.
The last shoe I bought for Mom’s decorative shoe collection was a high-heeled shoe that reminded me of Cinderella’s glass slipper. It was made of plastic, of course, but it was beautiful. It was a Christmas ornament I’d found at a place called Christmas Village in South Dakota. It may have been August outside, but inside that store, it was Christmas year-round. She only put that shoe on her tree one year before she passed. To this day, that shoe still hangs on my tree in her memory.
I’d kept that display case and all those little shoes in a box for years. I always thought I’d get them out and display them someday, but it never happened. However, I did end up doing something with the whole collection that would have made my mother proud. I gave them all to my daughter for Christmas.
When she opened the gift, my daughter began to cry. She said that every time she sees a little decorative shoe, she thinks of Grandma. By giving her Grandma’s collection, she felt that a part of Grandma would always be with her. A couple of months later, my daughter called me to tell me she’d bought her first little decorative shoe at a craft fair to add to the collection.
As someone who grew up with various collections all around them, I grew to have several collections of my own. Not just since becoming an adult, but since I was a kid. I was raised to believe that there was beauty in all things, even if that beauty was only seen by a few people. I still notice small, decorative shoes at various places when I travel. And they always remind me of my mother. I wonder what shoes she’s wearing in Heaven.
Until next time
Miss Chris!!!
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Christine Graves has been writing for more than 30 years. She runs several blogs, including Priestess of Words, Collected Keepsakes, and Mystic Realms, all of which are part of her company, Graves Publications.
