If shoes could talk
Ana Tokin
Ana Tokin is a fashion designer who links the beginnings of her career to the field of marketing. She dared to follow her fashion dreams after a successful twenty-year career. She launched the Ana Tokin brand and designs timeless dresses that don't follow trends. Ana's dresses are a reflection of her bohemian, romantic, and sincere view of the world. In addition to marketing and design, Ana writes exceptionally well and regularly publishes short stories and her thoughts on social media, so we her fans are also hoping for some longer reading material in the form of a book.
If shoes were living beings and could talk, what would they tell us? Would they tell us everywhere they'd wandered, what they'd seen, which parties they'd been to, and how they'd enjoyed themselves along the way? Would I leave them grubby and dusty after a whole night of dancing, or would they go to their rest polished? How many times did they stand on tiptoe during a first kiss, making me a bit taller in secret? And how many times did they slip off under the table, tired and weary from long walks? I would certainly listen to all these stories as if they hadn't happened to me, because I've been in various unthinking states throughout my life and, realistically, I don't remember some of them. But if they knew how to speak, they would surely remind me. The only question is, would I want to remember everything? Maybe not.
I finished secondary school in 1990. I still didn’t know which university to enrol in. Nothing particularly interested me, and at the same time, everything did. A slightly lost state, how most people generally feel at that age. A lack of brains and an excess of hormones. I tell my dad that I’d like to take a gap year before continuing my education. I give him some reasons that make sense, and some that don’t really make much sense at all. I explain that I’d like to travel around Europe, see the world, and meet some new people. I’ve always been very lucky with my parents. They nurtured my individuality and adventurous spirit, without imposing their will. And so, in September 1990, Mum and Dad said, “Okay,” and I embarked on my first solo adventure. The first stop was Prague.
At that time, ‘Kanadjanke’ were in fashion. Yellow boots for Canadian lumberjacks, which couldn't be bought in Belgrade, but in Prague they were readily available. Every other shop had them, although they were all large sizes for men. I decided to buy them, even though the smallest size was 43. At that time, and still now, I wear a 38. I asked the salesman to bring them out, I took out the left one from the box, because my left foot is slightly bigger than my right, I sat on a chair, put it on, and stood in front of the mirror. I saw they were huge, I looked like Crazy Nasta. I already knew mum would scold me when she saw me, she'd say I needed to see a doctor, and if she met me on the street while I was wearing them, I shouldn't even think of greeting her. Dad would probably say something like: “Sweetie, you're going to set a new trend. If you like them, wear them, who cares.” Dad always thought that every move I made in life was at least the most brilliant thing the world could see. I only ever got support and encouragement from him, and Mum was the counterweight. Reason and logic on the other side. I'd say that's a pretty good family combination to turn out a more or less normal person. With feet on the ground and a head full of dreams. It's not a bad division of things, when I look at it today from this distance.
And I bought them. The seller didn't bat an eyelid when selling them, at least I didn't see any reaction. Only he knows what he was thinking at that moment. I didn't wear them for long, just a short time in Belgrade, just to get over my craving. I knew they couldn't become my favourite pair, because let's be honest, they looked ridiculous on me, so I decided to give them to my friend, Bogdan Turudija. He was really happy, he wasn't expecting such a gift. And it wasn't for any occasion, not a birthday, nor New Year's, but just a ordinary afternoon when I was showing him my shoe rack.
If those ‘Canadian’ boots could talk, would they be happy they ended up with me? That they travelled by train to another country and settled in the shoe rack next to the women's footwear? Or would they make the sign of the cross, if they knew how, and click their tongues three times like my mother did when she first saw me in them?
Even today, I'll buy a larger size shoe if I like it and my size isn't available. I'll pop in an insole, add a bit of cotton wool if the situation calls for it, and wear them. I don't think about what the world will say if they see they're too big, because I know that true shoe lovers understand what it means to fall in love with a pair of shoes. It's not a rational state that can be explained logically. It's at the level of a stampede of butterflies tearing up your stomach and not leaving you alone until that pair of shoes ends up on your feet.
“You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.
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When you buy quality shoes, it's normal to want them to be comfortable every time you put them on. And of course, to last.
