Leaving Harrison in charge of a shoe shop was – well, like holding a diet club in a Darrell Lea’s. It was both delightful and cruel at the same time. Perhaps it was more so for Harry than any sweet tooth because he had no boundaries, no prejudices. He loved all feet.
The unassuming, gentle lad had felt passion for feet his whole life long. His mother saw nothing unusual in the chubby baby sucking his own toes. All kids did that … right? But when he was five she put her foot down. Or more literally, made him put his own down.
“Why can’t you suck your thumb like other kids?” she admonished.
And that’s about when the shoe fetishism was added to the love of feet. She bought him all manner of difficult-to-remove shoes but they had the opposite to the desired effect and she noticed the occasional tooth marks on his Grosbys.
As a teen, Harry showed off in PE to the girls and his teachers thought there was a potential gymnast in their midst, but he rarely made the effort to go beyond his comical foot in mouth routine so they finally gave up on him.
Cute and funny became gross and obscene and he was eventually asked to leave school so he dropped out at 16 as a lost cause to shoes. What no one considered was the vast knowledge Harrison had gathered on all things feet and shoes. Had anyone bothered to nurture rather than discourage his calling, Harrison could have been a brilliant podiatrist. Instead, his love of naked feet was focussed on how best to clothe them.
However, Harrison made a name for himself. No one came into his shop unless they had a huge amount of time to kill and a desire for the best – no, no, no – the ONLY fit possible for their foot. He had turned it into an art form and no one left his shop disappointed. (Of course they had to also have the fortitude to overlook his foot-loving, somewhat creepy caresses too). But being able to tolerate that meant the best shoe experience anyone could ever hope to have.
And so it is natural that Harrison would eventually make it into the pages of the history books. His name is never mentioned, but his role in bringing together one of the most famous couples is legend. After all, just about any shoe salesman could have tortuously squeezed Mabel’s foot into that glass slipper, but it was Harrison who made sure Cinderella’s fit was perfect.
A Perfect Fit
An unnamed hero of legend.
Written in a mad fit of panic that I had nothing to take with me to today’s Melbourne Writers meet.
LisaG, 2 months ago
Anne, what a wonderful piece, I love it from the first line to the finish. Got to love a fetish that you can turn into a business ;)
Anne van Alkemade
in reply to LisaG’s comment,
2 months ago
Thanks Lisa. Inspired a bit by an episode of Sex in the City, although I don’t really ‘get’ the shoe obsession. I have a passion for another item of clothing (I’ll whisper it to you this arvo LOL).
jcmontgomery, 2 months ago
What a wonderful way to wend a reader through the story, unsure of what exactly awaits…and then surprise him or her with a lovely, but appropriate twist.
Anne van Alkemade
in reply to jcmontgomery’s comment,
2 months ago
:o) Thank you JC. I am a fan of the Twilight Zone style and if I can find a twist, I’ll use it in a shot. Glad you enjoyed.
Metamorphosis, 2 months ago
this is awesome Anne, you have the sharpest wit i know…
Chanel2, 2 months ago
Ha, I know some who would have loved that shop. Nothing freaky, just they looove foot rubs.
Good story Anne.
Anne van Alkemade
in reply to Metamorphosis’s comment,
2 months ago
thank you. your praise is good for my soul. :o)
Anne van Alkemade
in reply to Chanel2’s comment,
2 months ago
Hahaha, my guilty secret – um … secret-no-more, but “me too”. LOL.
Janine Peterson, 2 months ago
Oh, Anne…that was wonderfully creative. I love stories that wind up making sense when you just about think it couldn’t. And giving the Cinerella story a long needed shot in the arm was fantastic.