By Jennifer Richard
My neighbor Sally lives unapologetically, and I admire her for that. She always lived life by her own rules and wore what she wanted, wherever she wanted.
Her only shoes were stilettos, and she knew how to make a grand spectacle whenever she walked down the hallway past my door. I could always tell it was her because her shoes sounded different from any pair that ever walked past my apartment — and the building was full of stylish people who sauntered in daily in stilettos. Every morning, I would hear different shoe sounds coming from the hallway; from the annoying klick-klacks, to the noisy koi-koi sounds. But Sally stood out with a gracious joof-joof shoe sound that made her seem regal.
One time, I overheard Sally from my balcony telling her stylist how high she wanted the slit on her dress to be. In 8 months of living in my apartment, I had only heard someone call her name and had never seen her face, but I could tell by how high she wanted her thigh to show that she was a risk-taker and also a troublemaker too. Only in my dreams could I dare to wear a dress with a thigh-high slit. I’d probably cower in shame from the voices in my head repeating, what will people think of you?! until I settled for a Mrs. Doubtfire house gown.
I was sitting by my window trying to finish up some work when I heard Sally sashay past my door. Her gait sounded different this time like she was in a hurry. It wasn’t loud and unsteady. There was integrity in the sound of her stilettos, but with a different tempo… A joof, joof-joof…joof, joof-joof sound. It was unlike Sally to walk too fast. Curious to know what changed in her steps, I raced to my door to catch a glimpse of the lady living next door for the first time. All I saw was the back of a quilted yellow floor-length fringe coat that hid every detail of this mystery woman.
I shut my door and dashed to my balcony and there she was, walking out of the building into the road with her head held up high, shoulders hung with pride in her coat and legs for days in a thigh-high blue-and-orange outfit — and a pair of white stilettos. She looked like a walking mannequin with bronze skin heading to the Met Gala. Everyone on the street stole many glances at her as she got into a waiting SUV. Looking at her shoes, people might have expected a noisy mess, but she slinked out like a quiet kitten, looking picture-perfect.
My head spun with confusion. I had never seen so many bright and fun hues at once on anyone. Who wears that many colors and still looks stunning?
Not me. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. In art class, I wouldn’t even mix primary colors with secondary colors. I could still hear my teacher telling me, never mix green with orange.
Yet Sally was out there getting away with dressing like a rainbow. She had so many contrasting colors on and would have been a fashion disaster if her shoes made loud, annoying sounds, but instead, her white stiletto shoes fit right in the mix.
Stilettos are amazing on the feet and can take a look from 0 to 100, but they make annoying sounds.
Then it hit me. Anyone could live out loud if they’re able to keep some things quiet.
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