5.) Write about a wardrobe malfunction.
Even though I got rid of them almost twenty years ago, the most memorable pair of shoes I’ve ever owned, were a set of boots I wore for three months in 1995. I was ten, going on thirty, and approximately halfway through the fifth grade. The shoes in question were black suede biker-ish boots, with two-inch wedge heels, and bronze hooks on each side of the ankle for tying the laces up. Those laces had to be at last as long as I was tall. The boots (I forget which exact brand), were called Rebels. As I said, they looked a bit like motorcycle boots, only smaller, and sort of cutesy. You might be wondering why a ten-year-old would wear something like that to school.
There was this girl. We’ll call her Lauren V___, and she was pretty much my arch nemesis. For the most part, she was actually kind of benign, but Lauren had been picking on me for years. So, when we crossed paths in the hall, I usually did my best to ignore her. One day, we met up as I was walking towards the bathroom. I think she actually popped out of class just to bug me.
Lauren complimented my tie-dyed tee and flannel over-shirt—did I mention it was the 1990s? I politely thanked her, and tried to keep going. When she told me my khakis and floral print tennis shoes were not cool, I simply shrugged. Then, she told me I could be popular if I just got some cool shoes, and started shopping at the hot stores (including the Limited Too). She gave me a long list of shoe names, but I can only remember the Rebels.
Lauren and I separated, and I was left with a lot of new information to consider. My mind was racing a mile a minute. How could this be? If all it took to be cool were the right clothes, why wasn’t everyone cool? This had to be some kind of a trick. Lauren was lying… Wasn’t she?
“But what if she’s telling the truth?” asked a nagging voice, in the back of my mind. I spent the rest of the school day silently debating this. I even went home and talked everything over with my parents. They thought the new clothes and shoes were a great idea. My mom took me tot the mall for a whole new wardrobe. Technically, I kept all my t-shirts, plaids, my bellbottoms, and anything made of denim. To be honest, I kept everything that fit and looked okay, but I only wore certain things to school. At the mall, my mom got me a couple waffle shirts, and a new pair of trendy jeans.
I remember spending the whole weekend driving around from shoe store to shoe store, looking for the Rebels. They were my top choice, because they were the only name I could remember. My mom didn’t want to send me back to school without the new shoes. She even called my aunt to ask my popular, high school aged cousin about cool footwear. His only suggestion was for Nike Air Jordan’s. We went to a dozen different places before finding the Rebels. They set my folks back at least $80 bucks, although I suppose the price isn’t very important, as we never had to worry about money.
Even when the shoe salesman helped me lace up the new boots in the store—and he did them perfectly—the loops dangled so low they touched the ground.
I practiced tying the shoes all weekend, but I was still a bit nervous when Monday morning approached. If a bit means I stopped to retie my shoes every twenty steps, regardless of whether they needed it or not. Though to be honest, they needed it on something like 95% of the times I checked. Even with my precautions, the damn things were constantly coming undone.
At first, I thought it would be worth the trouble. The first day Lauren complimented my shoes, and all my other clothes (a new, bright yellow waffle shirt, and acid washed or bleached jeans). By Thursday, a dozen people had told me how cool my Rebels were. The constant need to tie my shoes was nothing in comparison to middle school popularity. Sure, I hadn’t actually made any new friends, but the cool kids were talking to me. It was a good start.
Then, about ten weeks after my parents purchased the Rebels, my boots came untied as I walking towards the lunchroom. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice this until it was too late. My friend Mindy and I were about to walk down the stairs between our classroom and the cafeteria. I accidentally stepped on my loose lace, and went flying. Because I was standing directly at the top step when I tripped, I fell all the way down the staircase.
Obviously, I didn’t see myself fall, but I’ve been told I made quite a spectacle. In front of everybody. Somehow, I was propelled with enough force to sail all the way over the stairs, avoiding them completely. I belly flopped onto the ground, below the bottom step. It’s not exactly having my shirt burst open to expose my nipples on live TV, at the Super bowl but it was a definite wardrobe malfunction, I tell you what.