The Shoe That Was Always There
I thought I chose this profession as an adult, through reason, through passion, through years of hard work and design. But I was wrong. The truth is, my path began much earlier, quietly, secretly, in my childhood.
I used to watch my mother with wonder. Her elegance was effortless, her presence magnetic. But it was her shoes and her handbags that truly captivated me. I would stare at them, imagining where they had been, what stories they carried. I didn’t know it then, but something deep inside me was already forming.
Years later, as a footwear designer, I created a pair of shoes, a design that felt both new and familiar. When I saw them finished, I froze. My heart beat faster, and my hands trembled. It wasn’t just a design. It was a memory. I had recreated, almost exactly, a pair of shoes my mother wore when I was a child. The same spirit, the same lines, even the same softness in the silhouette.
In that moment, I felt something bigger than inspiration. I felt the raw power of memory, of the subconscious, of love. I realized I had been carrying this image my entire life, not in my sketchbooks, but in my soul.
That day, something clicked open in me. I didn’t just design a shoe. I reconnected with my beginning. And for the first time, I saw my work not as invention, but as remembrance. A return. A quiet truth waiting to be heard.
This is the shoe. The one that was always there, waiting for me to remember.
