Right Shoe, Wrong Time
A cautionary tale of getting what you wish for
Bally Stredas Sandals ♡
I unconsciously manifested these shoes by having a picture of them saved in my phone for at least 4 years. This was before I believed anything about consciously (rather, subconsciously) manifesting things into your reality was a real thing, or understood how to make it work for you.
After I saw these shoes, I thought regularly about how incredibly gorgeous they were and how it would be so rare to find them out in the wild. After all, there was only 1 photo of them on some random blog. I wouldn’t have any way to know if they’re even real, maybe they’re just a sample that never went into production. Mind you, I have been collecting designer shoes for years, and I know that Bally makes some ugly fucking shoes. You don’t go to Bally looking for a pair of elegant stilettos. These are an anomaly, an inconceivable outlier. I was dumbfounded.
That didn’t stop me from dreaming of all the effortless, chic outfits I would create, comparing them to what I had; feeling that those other shoes just weren’t quite right for the job. Still, I prevailed with the knowledge of these sandals, and figured I’d eventually find something similar that could serve as a palatable substitute. I rationalized with myself that there are so many shoes in existence, I could likely find something better if I wait it out.
In my mind, I would wear these shoes out to dinner with friends, on dates or to other important events; they even made their way into an intricate bridal fantasy with a second outfit change. All of these imaginary possibilities were unfolding before me, although I was less interested in an actual marriage to another person, but rather the flickering spark of an ideal self-image.
A vision where I was swathed in various shades of white and cream, of course while wearing these amazing shoes. No need for a groom anyways, the self-rendered image of me in these shoes was trumping the fleeting hope for true love itself. They’re the perfect sexy, strappy nude shoe! What’s not to love? The shoes themselves were my sole mate. But it was only an unattainable daydream, …right?
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Alas, I continued my search for a more reasonable alternative, due to the near impossibility, or rather irrationality of finding this exact pair. Nothing compared, so I never purchased anything to fill the void of my perfect nude sandal. Years went by and I still hadn’t found a proper replacement. I recalled their existence one evening and decided to do some light research, and ended up awestruck by my findings.
I cultivated my Cinderella moment by following the curious urge to give eBay a once-over. There had been several random, fruitless searches throughout the years; but that night, I found the only pair of these shoes I have ever seen for sale.
They’re a 36, my perfect size; with an exceptionally tall pair of heels like this, proper fit is imperative. They were $199, a reasonable price for a luxury item in brand new condition, especially for my actual dream shoe. In the listing, the woman selling them mentioned she bought this pair as a backup; she loved them so much she went and bought another pair but never wore them. I was blown away by how they just appeared in my reality, brand new, in my size, for a price I could afford. I bought them so fast I didn’t let the fear of them being a scam sink in until later. I could barely wait to get my hands on them and turn my fantasies into reality.
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The day I got them in the mail, I remember being aggravated about something and was heavily relying on the arrival and presence of these shoes to turn my shitty mood around. Already ‘bent out of shape’ over something trivial, my intuition urged me to wait until later to open the package, after I’ve calmed down.
I disregarded the bleak whispers of spirit and stormed off to open it anyways.
Considering the delivery date of February 14th, this was probably the happiest Valentine’s Day gift I could have anticipated for myself, while likely fueling the reason I was upset to begin with. I was still dealing with the whiplash of thinking I was working towards a promising future with someone, only to be phased out by whatever was deemed more thrilling.
After I had torn through the box like a beast, I was only mildly pleased to be greeted by the item I had ordered, in mint condition. I impetuously began wrestling with the delicate leather strap, becoming increasingly frustrated and overstimulated trying to figure out why they wouldn’t seem to go on. As I repeatedly jammed my foot through the top strap, my heel kept getting caught each time I tried to slip it on. The strap is way too small and it’s driving me crazy! What kind of sick, twisted game is this? To finally get a hold of this perfect shoe, in the perfect size and it still doesn’t fit? How could this be? And why? My internal monologue turned pessimistic. I see why they were for sale, they were a scam after all! A dud. That lady was a liar, she just wanted to rid herself of a lemon. Figures.
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After I had fiddled with them for a while, I sat on the floor, defeated. My disappointment had calmed me down. I picked up a shoe, and in one glance realized that you can slide the loops to open and close the strap. I widened the strap, and my foot slipped right through. They were never a dud, they were truly the perfect shoe that needed but a speck of attentiveness to understand. Had I taken time to decompress and center myself, it would have taken all of 6 seconds to figure out how to use the fastening. The 6 seconds had turned into about 16 minutes of aimless tugging, accounting for each time I attempted to shove my feet back in between alterations. The strap was now so badly stretched that it meekly hovered around my ankle like a limp piece of spaghetti. Even when tightened correctly, she was a goner. I was devastated. I had worked exceptionally hard to make sure these shoes were entirely unwearable. My fury had overridden the system, leaving destruction in the wake. I did this to both shoes, to varying degrees. Both.
I chalked this up to another incident of me ruining something I wanted so badly, for so long, by ignoring my better judgement. All of the future fashion visions had gone up in flames; no more perfect shoes, no more perfect outfits, before I even got to wear them. All of it was now gone because I couldn’t control my emotions in a brief moment of flustered foolishness. I can’t even remember exactly what I was upset about to begin with, or if it had even mattered at all. I came to the conclusion that it actually didn’t matter if someone hurt my feelings or treated me poorly. The way someone else acts towards me should never be dictating the way I move through life. I was responsible for transmuting those negative emotions once I removed myself from the situation. Since I hadn’t done the emotional work as I was guided to, the anger and disappointment compounded, and boomeranged right back to me. I was forced to sit with the fact that I was willing to trash something beautiful instead of embracing temporary feelings of discomfort, amplifying the stupidity of making something way harder than it needed to be.
I refused to wait until I was in a relaxed frame of mind to receive such a gift, recklessly throwing away all of the effort the universe made on my behalf to bring me my manifestation in the first place. There was little to no admiration for the lengths this shoe had gone through to materialize into my reality, making it instantly unenjoyable due to my tainted perception.
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For another 4 years, I had these once-perfect shoes staring back at me in my closet every time I went to get dressed, serving as a daily reminder of how my impatience and irritability ruined something so special. I regularly admired their beauty from afar, mourning their original purpose in my life. I would slip them on occasionally, thinking about how I could have thoroughly enjoyed them had I not been so careless. It was then I realized why something so attainable, an item that was literally right in front of me, had practically self-destructed due to my own misalignment with myself and my reality.
The woman that wears this specific pair of shoes is not careless; she is grateful, relaxed, poised and not phased by much of anything. The temperamental, unimpressed woman that unboxed those incredible Bally sandals is not the same person that deserves to be wearing them, and the universe (and even my own self) made sure of that. I was far too stressed and pressed in that specific moment in time, to where it put a tangible dent into my future.
The harsh reality was that I unknowingly aligned with a gift without expecting it. Instead of regulating my emotions to be in a receptive state; I was rushed, upset and annoyed, spoiling the gift’s arrival with my own haste and bad attitude. This revoked the manifestation, because the reality of me being happy and grateful to have the shoes now exists in a completely different frequency and timeline after the damage had been done. In the heat of the moment, I was relying on this external item to regulate my emotions for me. Shiny new thing = happy. This miracle object mysteriously granted to me was turned into a run-of-the-mill, simplistic dopamine hit by the absence of appreciation and emotional self-regulation. I was no longer a vibrational match for my desire, and it had practically vanished before my eyes.
I was not the woman aligned to be wearing those shoes, even though I bought them, owned them and they were sitting right in front of me. Yes, technically they were mine, but not really mine because they are no longer of use to me. They were instantly turned into a useless fixture in my life due to my lack of obedience and self-control. I was warned to wait until I was calm to open the gift, ignored the warning, and immediately had it taken away.
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Every once in a while I would mull over ways to improvise or wear them anyways, but these are shoes that must fit in order to wear them. There is no cheating this style, if they are not secure, you’re going to fall and it is definitely going to hurt. This needed to be an effective solution.
I took the shoes out one day and decided I was seriously going to figure out how to either repair them or make them wearable. At first I wrote off the possibility of repair, using a ribbon to wrap around the ankle, under the shoe to secure it to my foot. Quite nice. I ordered two sets of leather laces and they were lovely, but that solution completely changed the shoe’s modern, understated design into a trendy one-hit-wonder. Not what I was looking for. Time passed, and the shoes continued to stare at me, waiting for inspiration to strike with a new approach.
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One day out of the blue, and several years into my dilemma, I am gifted the divine knowledge on how to repair them. I’m going to gently heat and shrink the elastic with a blow dryer until they are snug and secure again. I worked meticulously, carefully ensuring not to overheat or overwork the leather, don’t melt the glue too much.
I would work, then allow them to cool completely; sometimes for months at a time to ensure durability of the delicate materials at play. I used gentle care to ease the strain that was once imprinted into the material. After revisiting this method multiple times over the past few years, I have mended them closely to original condition. This was exactly how much effort I needed to put forward in order to allow this gift to re-enter my reality. I needed to demonstrate how patient I was willing to be, because I was incapable of patience upon initial arrival. I now understand that materialization of your desired outcome does not guarantee its permanence. However, your ability to meet what you’ve asked for by preserving your emotional state can be directly correlated to whether or not you maintain an interactive reality with your desires.
I can begin to turn my daydreams into reality after taking the time to mend something important to me, by forgiving myself for mistakes I’ve made. I had to demonstrate the same compassion and care that I needed for myself, through the act of repairing these shoes. Each time I put effort into the repairs, I was essentially time-traveling to when upset in the first place; mere moments before the self-inflicted tragedy, and nurturing myself in the way I was initially called to. I had to be gracious with myself for holding a vision I could not align with in the way I was behaving. Slowing down to assess my situation is a skill I would need to have as Future Me, the me I saw wearing these shoes.
It has been nearly a decade since I have first seen and obtained these sandals. I can now wear them, and if you’re wondering, they are quite comfortable. The possibilities of my future self have been re-awakened to (and by) my current self. I am responsible for upholding the vision I saw myself embodying when I first sought after these shoes. These are the shoes that I strive to walk in, and it took a lot more effort than expected to be able to wear them. I even fractured both of my ankles at various points during the time they sat patiently, waiting for their moment to shine. My body itself was also in agreement when my mind would allow no other outcome but failure.
Strangely, when I put them on now, I feel like they are one of the most sentimental items in my closet, and they haven’t left the confines of my home. Even stranger, nobody would know I owned these shoes had I not written this bizarre, profound confession about them. Thankfully, since their restoration, I no longer feel the need to keep them or their symbolism to me close to the chest.
Although we have yet to embark on our maiden voyage in public together, I sense our destiny will soon be fulfilled. By the time my ankles recover, with physical and mental stability reconciled, I’ll have the perfect pair of shoes to marry the next best version of myself.
-Carrie Bradshaw
(Marina)
Yes, I also untwisted the toe strap. Whatever. Its fine.
