The Saga of the Elf Boots

In 2020, I would never have even given this situation a passing thought.

OK, maybe I would have, but only because the object of the decision is something to which I have a little bit of an emotional attachment.

It might be helpful for me to explain what is going on, huh?

As you know, I have made a commitment to purchase no new clothes, shoes or accessories in 2021.

Cue complication: Just yesterday, one of my favorite little brown suede boots which I call affectionately my “elf boots”, broke. It’s the second time this has happened: one of the leather straps broke when I was pregnant in 2016. I just pulled a little tighter and made a new hole. This time, even that workaround popped.

Not to mention that the heels are nearly worn off, which is making them slightly less comfortable to wear for long periods.

I do not own a lot of shoes. I purchased these shoes for more money than I usually spend on shoes, because at my place of employment, where I worked pre-scalawag, I had been given a cash-equivalent gift card and esteemed that I really could use that gift to afford these nice boots, which can be worn two ways (floppy like an elf or upright like Robin Hood) and which I genuinely loved them. These boots are from 2013. I still love them as much as I did then.

Pre-scalawag, I worked at a radio station and talked on-air about the saleslady who helped me choose the shoes. She was amazingly helpful, which, let me assure you, is a rare thing in France. I made the point to my co-host that good client service costs nothing but means everything. That comment got tons of feedback from listeners and started a little “random acts of kindness” movement in town. That is my emotional attachment to these shoes: they remind me of a great part of my pre-scalawag professional life.

These shoes are now almost unwearable but they still bring me joy!

So what do I do? I have always heard that nowadays it costs more to get shoes repaired than it does to buy new, but anyway, I can’t buy new, 2021 resolution oblige. So I either discard them, or I find out how much it will cost to get them repaired.

I am not thrilled with the idea of trudging across town to a shoe repair shop, especially when my hours sans-scalawag are already short, only to find that it will cost a small fortune to get the shoes repaired.

I have set a sum in my mind as the absolute maximum I would be willing to spend on these boots to get them fixed. I guess I just need to get up the drive to do my trudging.

More to come in the saga of the elf boots…