Sometimes I look at the number of shoes I own and wonder how I ever grew into this many pairs. A therapist would probably say I’ve been trying to fill the sense of lack I dragged from childhood. Maybe they’re right. But to me, it’s also about the memories – the symbols behind shoes, the stories they carry, and the scent of hope, freedom, and that little girl who once enjoyed daydreaming more than living in reality.

The Suede Boots That Shaped My Dreams

A Childhood Moment of Wonder

Back when I was just a little girl, barely into my teens, my parents whisked me away to a magical store reserved exclusively for families of World War II veterans—a rare privilege thanks to my grandpa’s service and his prized store pass. Picture this: Ukraine, still firmly in the grip of the Soviet era, where scarcity wasn’t just common – it was a way of life.

Stepping into that store felt like striking gold. While my parents gravitated toward practicality (sturdy boots for our long, unforgiving winters), my eyes fixated on the most exquisite pair of suede boots. Light gray and impossibly soft, they seemed like something from another world. I was convinced they were the epitome of beauty.

The Price of Beauty

My parents warned me: salt, snow, and rain would ruin them. Of course, they were right. Before long, my once-pristine boots looked battered and weary, their delicate suede no match for icy puddles and city grime. Still, I clung to them. I cleaned them religiously, stuffed them with newspapers to keep their shape, and trudged through the snow with wet feet—determined to preserve the magic they represented.

Even then, I understood these weren’t just shoes. They were symbols behind shoes—of desire, individuality, and the quiet rebellion of wanting something beautiful in a world that prized conformity.

The Promise I Made

As I stared at those ruined boots, I made myself a solemn vow: when I grew up, I’d have a shoe collection fit for every season and occasion. In my twenties, that dream came alive—at least partly. I imagined my closet looking like something out of my favorite TV show, where the lead character’s passion for shoes mirrored my own.

While I may not own any Manolos or Choos, I proudly stride in my Stuart Weitzmans and a handful of other cherished brands. Comfort and uniqueness have replaced luxury as my compass, not to dazzle others, but to honor that wide-eyed little girl who once dreamed endlessly about shoes.

Beyond the Suede

The scent of leather still brings me nostalgia, though I’ve grown out of and beyond so many childhood concepts and preferences. These days, I choose meaning over quantity, substance over show. I’ve learned that the symbols behind shoes aren’t about status or style. They’re about the stories we carry, the paths we’ve walked, and the dreams that kept us moving forward through bumps, detours, and pushbacks. Shoes, more than any other cover-up, speak to our individuality, what we choose between comfort and beauty, between shapes, colors, and moods.

It turns out there’s science behind this emotional pull. Psychologists have found that the shoes we choose —and the ones we hold onto —do more than protect our feet. They offer clues about who we were, who we are, and who we hope to become. One study even found people could guess someone’s age, income, and attachment style just by looking at their shoes.

A Reflection on Freedom

Every pair I own now tells a story — not of indulgence, but of gratitude. Gratitude for the freedom to choose, for the comfort I once longed for, and for that determined girl who believed in beauty even when the world seemed gray.

Because in the end, it was never really about the shoes themselves — but the symbols behind shoes: the dreams they carried, the miles they’ve witnessed, and the reminder that even the smallest desires can shape the person we become.

Maybe that’s what growing up really is — learning to choose wisely what fits the occasion, knowing when to dress up and when to dress down, and walking through it all with a sense of ease and authenticity.