First, a fellow abandoned shoe chronicler — writing entirely in French, no less — included my initial posting in the Abandoned Shoe gallery among his ongoing display of shoes. Please return the favor by viewing his collection of shoes left in China and Spain.
Second, I found the two abandoned shoes above within five and a half minutes of each other in an alley in Highland Park on May 28, a sunny Saturday afternoon in the mid-70s.
The first is a toddler’s right sandal, a pink flower adorning its pink strap. It is arranged on a low stone embankment, as so many abandoned children’s shoes are arranged.
The second is a woman’s right slipper, a ruby bow adorning its glittering top. It is arranged beside a toy vacuum cleaner and a crushed plastic one-liter bottle.
Common sense tells us they aren’t connected, but whimsy insists otherwise. Perhaps a mother and a daughter (or, perhaps, an older sister and a younger sister) left the house in almost matching tones and returned in identically incomplete outfits. Did the child lose her shoe, as children are known to do, and the adult kick hers aside in sisterhood? Or did the adult slip out of her shoe first and the child merely followed suit in a fit of mimicry?
And how do the vacuum cleaner and the bottle figure into the narrative? Perhaps they caused the event: an adult wild on sugary soda and a child enthralled by a squealing toy suddenly synchronized a simultaneous high kick, and two right shoes went flying.