Everyone loves a success story. But failure? No one wants to hear about that, unless it happens to a big celebrity, someone that had it so good that they “had it coming.” The failure of an average person trying to make their dreams come true- well, that’s just sad. No one wants to hear about that…right?
What has happened to it all? Crazy, some'd say Where is the life that I recognize? Gone away
But I won't cry for yesterday There's an ordinary world Somehow I have to find And as I try to make my way To the ordinary world I will learn to survive
- Duran Duran, Ordinary World
I sort through the rubble of pair after pair, sample after sample and think- it’s just so fucking sad. My heart hurts. I find myself crying a little, and then feel so silly and tell myself I'm being ridiculous- is just shoes. But it’s not just shoes.
Every pair carries with it a pile of hopes and dreams and memories. Some amazing victories and some devastating failures. All in a stupid shoe.
My life was so full then, so adventurous. It was truly like being in love. I was so wide awake with excitement, nearly every day. And also very afraid, nearly every day. But fear and excitement are just two sides of the same emotion. And sorting shoes today feels a lot like sorting through my emotions- searching for lessons, clarifying what we did right vs. wrong, what would could do better next time, and most importantly, how to move forward and create something new. Something that we could do for the next 20+ years of our lives without feeling like we've settled for an ordinary life.
Why do we always judge success of a project based on the outcome? Everyone loves to say “it’s the journey, not the destination”, but do we really mean it? I want to tell our true story- which is one of both wild success and epic failure. Of incredible inspiration and utter despair, of self loving and self loathing, difficult nights crying on the bathroom floor and ecstatic celebrations with champagne and laughing so hard you cry. Essentially it’s about life, wrapped up in shoes.