Remember how I asked for people to send in their shoe stories? What do you know? A reader sent this about a pair of shoes she had seen and coveted:

“I’m a mother of three, no longer a young woman. The raciest I get is wearing fishnet stockings hidden under a pair of boots. Not too long ago I would have looked at sexy shoes and scoffed at their impracticality. I wouldn’t go near fur and alligator printed leather would have been too outlandish for my taste.

In a recent funk, I was having a latte at the mall and stopped mid-sip. I couldn’t take my eyes off the shoes a woman coming toward me had on. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, or how she was lightly holding the man’s hand she was with. Whatever made her posture erect and her butt stick out made for an arresting sight. I was smitten, lusting over her impractical pumps and like a woman obsessed, I lost my head. I had to have those shoes! No way could I ask her where she got them, I took a chance and searched all the stores in the mall until I finally saw them on a pedestal in a shoe store. Those heavens opened and angels sang.

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Any ladies out there remember the Candies “Disco Slide?” Though I was a lousy dancer (think “the Elaine”), I ran with a crowd of girls that hit the South OC clubs like McCormick’s Landing and Deja Vu long before they should have. I got caught up in it once or twice (wink). Candies were The Shoe of the moment so I saved up from my Del Taco on Dyer gig to buy a pair.

Cherry red was the color and I imagined the fun I’d have in them. But that heel was enormous! I was used to black and white saddle oxfords in those days. And walking around in those Candies was torture. I didn’t wear them long and passed them on to a friend. I’d ditched them for a pair of Sperry Top Siders and an overly long sailing season.

Both pair of shoes I haven’t seen in a million years. The Candies might be found in a thrift store somewhere, probably very worse for wear. And the Top Siders got misplaced. The last I heard they were hiding in the closet of a Cassis of Kent Sloop on their way to Trinidad.

My bff Lauren recently inherited a pair of fabulous shoes her grandmother had cherished. They are adorable, classic and Lauren always admired them. Some shoes can move a woman in that way. They fit perfectly, go anywhere and look smashing. And when their owner is gone, they’re worthy of handing down to the next generation.

Like a good friend that never lets you down, this pair is like that for me. I’ve experienced high times in these shoes and every time I wear them, delightful memories rush me. The lines are classic, the heel, high enough to be elegant and that bow on the toe is the perfect touch. These shoes ooze class and character. I’ll pass them along with the hope that whoever gets them next will feel as lucky as I did to have them in my life.

I’m dedicating this post to my dear friend and former co-worker George Turney, born on this day in 1959. A good friend and a wonderful man. I miss you George!

Any woman, young or old is going to be attracted to a well crafted, beautifully appointed shoe like this pair I saw a while back in San Francisco. You know how it is when everything seems really dreamy when it’s set in a perfect place like San Francisco?

I tried them on and walked around the city, watching the clouds speed overhead. A delicious dinner at Boulevard and my favorite glass of wine and I felt like these shoes could really show me a splendid time. Oh, la la! They were fetching and sexy, but the wind came up and everything got kind of chilly.

Mostly though, there was something about the way they seemed almost too slick and perfect. Like they’d been around those blocks so many times on so many other women. That’s why I named them “The Professionals.”

When I wore the same pair in the North Bay town of Santa Rosa later, that’s when I really noticed it’s flaws. Those sky high heels translated into a 10 minute pump (if a girl was lucky) which annoyed the hell out of me for such an expensive pair. That’s the kind of high-priced shoe that could cause a fight or ruin a relationship, a pair I’d get tired of quick. In the end, they didn’t really appeal to me. As much as I love a good time in a beautiful city, I realized I sort of transfered my love of the city on to those shoes. In the end, I never wore them again.