By KATIE DONAHOE ‘12

Opinion Editor

For those of you who know me well, you are already fully aware of my love of Keds. For those of you who don’t: I love Keds. A lot. I wear them almost every day, I just can’t help myself. Any color, any shade: Keds are classic. They pull together any outfit flawlessly, and I like to think my feet enjoy the attention. In fact, I’m wearing Keds right now.
As much as I adore Keds, I have always not-so-secretly wanted my very own pair of saddle shoes. Yes, saddle shoes. Now, this is not an easy story to tell, but to begin: It all started 12 years ago on a sunny afternoon in Encino.
Imagine if you will, a small, four-year-old Katie Donahoe (I know, she’s adorable,) excitedly walking into Harry Harris Shoes with her mommy and two older brothers. Now, picture that same cutie asking — no, begging — her mom for that perfect pair of ’50s oxfords. Think of her crushed little face when she is told time after time, year after year, “No, Kaitlin. No, you cannot have your dream shoes. I have no reason to deny you said shoes, but I will, ’cause I can.” (At least, that’s how I remember it.) Heartbreaking to say the least, right? Right.

Fast forward to the present. Picture the 16-year-old Katie you have come to know and love. (I know, she’s adorable.)
One breezy Sunday morning, while discussing the prospects for the day, I mentioned my saddle shoe-less pain to two of my friends, Sophie Strauss ‘12 and Erica Canup ‘12. It was then that we decided to spend the better part of our day scouring Los Angeles for the beloved oxfords.

We began by returning to Harry Harris, the very one I had gone to with high hopes but left time after time with a damaged spirit as a kid. We walked in to find the curious stares of parents and store employees alike (in retrospect, it must have been odd to see three 16-year-old girls meander into a children’s shoe store, but we were there and they just had to get over it.) My eyes darted around the room, only to find a lack of saddle shoes. But while my mind was still processing the absence of the dream shoes, we were ambushed by a salesman. “Are you looking for something?” he asked. “No,” I thought, and I hung my head, “no, not anymore.” Once again, I had walked into Harry Harris with optimism and left with despair. The feeling was all too familiar.

We then drove to Kiqzoo Shoe Store. Never heard of it? Neither have I, but it was there and we went. If by any chance, you were planning on shopping there, don’t. They didn’t have saddle shoes.

A bit more discouraged, we shuffled over to Shelly’s, as we had heard it might have the seemingly impossible-to-find shoes.

The sales girl, who made it known she had much better things to do with her Sunday than escort three kids around the store, asked what saddle shoes were . She then turned around and headed to the back of the store, asking if these were for a Halloween costume. I told her that I just wanted to wear them as everyday shoes and she stopped in her tracks. Did those beautiful black-and-white oxfords die with the Donna Reed Show?

She pointed to a stand with black-and-white shoes on top, and I walked over only to find saddle shoes. Yes, but these were a little different than the ones I knew as a little girl: These were plastic. I was holding a shiny plastic saddle shoe. Not acceptable.

Erica, Sophie and I left the store with our hearts a little heavier than when we came in and headed home, saddle shoe-less. Where was I to ever find my shoes?!

The answer? The place we go for all of our merchandise needs: eBay. Yes, I’m a little ashamed I’ve waited 12 years for shoes that have been waiting for me on my computer (mostly I’m embarrassed I found my saddle shoes on eBay.) And yes, I’m a little worried my childhood dream shoes now rely solely in the custody of FedEx. But, mostly, I’m proud of my “bringing-down-the-man” type attitude (the man being the parents, who shall remain nameless, that denied their darling daughter her dream shoes). Yeah, I’m feeling pretty good right now.

My advice to others looking for their childhood dreams: look on eBay, they’re probably for sale.