Why Wait? Wear the Shoes Now

I slightly hyperventilate as I leave the shoe store with my new black patent leather loafers. I incredulously stare at my feet as they touch the sidewalk and slowly accept there is no going back, no returning the new shoes for they are officially worn, plus I purposely choose not to wear socks, which makes the shoes mine now and forever.

I smile—a huge, giggly, little girl smile even though I am 45—for today, finally, I defy them with my rebellious joyful abandonment.

From within, I hear my mother and grandmother’s mandates: Never wear new shoes out of the store. Save them in the box with the tissue paper and the paper stuffing inside. Save them for a specific occasion.

I respond aloud to their ancient commands that swirl within my mind: No, I will not.

The author enjoying moments with two of her four grandchildren.

Source: Barbara A. Jaffe

As a child, I learned that such special occasions often come only after I outgrow my special new shoes, never to be worn. Then, in almost a ritualistic act, my mother gives them away, tissue paper and all, even the box, still crisp and unmarked.

I hear Mother’s voice as if she has seen my black patents: What are you doing? Now, you won’t have anything special to wear when the time comes.

Immediately, my thoughts flash to Nana Bea’s similar habits of waiting to wear new purchases. Such antiquated, unrealistic directives add to my determination of not saving clothing or shoes but instead enjoying them now.

One indelible memory is after my grandmother had died and my father and I entered her apartment (my distraught mother stayed in bed) to pack up her clothing and other possessions. As we opened her drawers, my eyes widened in astonishment; I held my breath, incredulous. Never appreciated new purses, wallets, scarves, and gloves all enveloped in the original tissue paper where the accessories had been purchased.

Such images and flashbacks are forever seared into my memories, stored with a warning for my own decisions to save or immediately enjoy. But my challenges are to overcome generational commitments to store away possessions whose only expiration date is a family member’s expiration.

The most important time is family time. The author is always ready to enjoy!

Source: Barbara A. Jaffe

I returned from college during a semester break and my mother asked me to get her a robe in her closet. I brought her a multi-colored floral quilted robe; she shrieked: “Oh no, Barbara, that’s my God Forbid Robe."

I looked perplexed. “But it’s so pretty, Mom, why not wear it now?”

Again, she responded with shock, “I will wear it only in case I have to go to the hospital. Put it back.”

As ordered, I exchanged the elegant God Forbid Robe for her every-day worn, smokey gray, long zippered and frayed cotton house coat.

Do other grandmothers and mothers have clothing rules and restrictions only in case of a health emergency or celebration?

Like my grandmother’s dresser drawers, my mother owned a collection of unused leather wallets, keychains, lipstick holders, tapestry Kleenex pouch holders, many purchased in San Francisco’s Chinatown and many gifted to her by me. And there are too many unworn sparkling objects to count.

I ask my mother, “Can I have one of the metal painted lipstick holders?” “Sure. Take the orange one; I don’t use that.”

Her jewelry was well swaddled in her second drawer: coveted gold and diamonds in every form: rings, bracelets, earrings, necklaces, sleeping in their jewelry quilted sack. As my mother ages, her stash of heirloom trinkets grows exponentially. She has inherited such pieces from her mother, and then her aunts. I love trying on her diamonds, especially my mother’s 3-carat ring which is my grandmother’s engagement ring from 1916. My mother’s hand hovers over my own, as she reminds me that the magnificent ring is not mine, “Take it off now.” But, to my surprise, in her will, she bequeaths me her jewelry, the same jewelry that she doesn’t want me to enjoy during my regular visits.

There are pieces, though, that she has never enjoyed except for special events such as weddings and Bar Mitzvahs and then she has my father write the dates of these occasions on a special paper. I have the diamonds and my father’s list with his last entry of 1993. She has worn the most important piece 17 times in 30 years.

The author's father's list of the 17 times her mother wore her cherished necklace, always 'saving' it for a special occasion.

Source: Barbara A. Jaffe

My new philosophy for the remainder of my years reflects a final defeat of our useless family tradition of saving-for-special-occasions. The newly purchased shoes are immediately worn outside the store; I throw the box away as well. I donate what doesn’t serve my spirit regardless of how long or short I have owned something. I order something in the mail and once I know it fits, I remove the price tags, so the dress or pants or shirt is ready to be worn. Sometimes that day!

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I enjoy some pieces of inherited jewelry and others I happily give away. How wonderful I feel when I see a loved one enjoying the heirloom. I can see their delight in wearing a piece of the family jewelry while I am still alive. Sometimes I get comments that I look too fancy, as I wear my blue short wool jacket with the gold buttons when I go to the market. If I don’t wear it today, when I want to, when will I? Now, I quietly whisper aloud.