When I was fourteen or so, aerobic high-top shoes were all the rage and I wanted a pair so bad I can’t tell you.  My best friend, Monica, had a pair just like these, and my jealousy knew no bounds.  I hinted and nagged and pleaded and cajoled until my mom could take it no more and bought me a pair of my own.  I loved those shoes and wore the hell out of them, even after they’d gone out of fashion.

The other day Lydia, my mom, and I were at the local shopping mall and Lydia decided she’d take a peek inside a nearby shoe store while I stopped by the bathroom.  When I came out she raced up to me, chattering excitedly about some new shoes she just *had* to have.  I pointed out to her that she’d already gotten at least six pairs of shoes in the past few months, but she waved off this reminder and urged me to “just come see.”

Knowing that resistance was futile, I went along to see and to my surprise, the object of her adoration was a pair of aerobic high-tops. Reebok, of course.  She wanted the white ones, but otherwise they were exactly the same as the shoes of my wildest adolescent dreams.  We left without them that day, but like any kid worth her oats, she hinted and nagged and pleaded and cajoled until my mom could take it no more and bought her a pair of her own.

In the interest of fairness, I must say that she did present a good, well-constructed argument about why she needed to add just these shoes to her collection — they will serve her well as fall sneakers, something she didn’t have before.  Still, I fear that before too many years have passed she’ll be able to hold her own against any Imelda Marcos or Carrie Bradshaw when it comes to accumulating footwear.