The Mark of Materialism

I bought a new pair of sneakers. They are somewhat of a cross between hiking shoes and tennis shoes, and they look really tough. I normally don't splurge on footwear, but I knew that I planned on steppin' out as the weather warmed up. An amazing thing happened as I tied those shoes on for the first time and walked around in them. Not only was I an inch or so taller, but it became immediately apparent that I would most certainly become faster, stronger and more athletic just by putting them on my feet. I felt foolish, but there was no denying the instant sensation of coolness; something akin to biting into a York Peppermint Patty, as I strutted in front of the little foot mirrors in the store. I wanted to enlist the the other patrons in the store and organize a parade of happy sneaker purchasers to hit the street for a quick jog around the block. Instead, I reluctantly took them off and replaced them with my old, unmagical pair of crummy shoes I had worn in.
On the drive home, I wondered about my reaction to these new shoes and I suddenly remembered the very first time I had believed in the power of new shoes and what could be accomplished while wearing them.

Zips.

I searched the Internet in vain for the commercial for Zips that had made such an impression. All I can remember now is a very cool kid making a 'Z' in the dirt with the toe of his sneaker and then disappearing in an explosion of speed and agility. Clearly, this commercial was a turning point in my life. Once, when I was very small, I was blissfully unaware of my urgent need for material things. The advertising machine that would soon convince me of my need for not only Zip sneakers but also a Trapper Keeper, Baby Soft perfume, Jordache jeans and a Swatch had not yet wormed it's way via the television into my greedy little brain.

Had I imagined this commercial? Surely not. The desire to own Zips went way past just wanting to run faster than the other kids in my neighborhood. I wanted the other kids to be jealous.

"Oooh...she has ZIPS!" , I hoped they would cry out as I left them choking on a cloud of dust behind me. Their faces would be green with envy.

Alas, unlike many children today, the fact that I wanted something did not mean that I would eventually get it. On the contrary, sometimes it would ensure I wouldn't. My mother, in her infinite wisdom, somehow knew that Zips were not capable of improving my life and simply were not necessary. This is not a woman who would stand in line for a Cabbage Patch Kid or buy white clothes for children. It just wasn't going to happen. Period.

So, now, in my mid-thirties, I can enjoy the thrill of purchasing shoes with the wild abandon of a child, however lame their eventual use may be. Will my friends be jealous? Probably not. They are pretty secure in their own footwear choices at this point. Will I run faster? Well, considering I haven't moved fast enough to break a brisk walk in years, its not very likely. Will I carve the letter 'Z' into the dirt with my toe?

Yup.