Last week I realized I could no longer see into most of my closet, so I blocked off some of my precious free time and did some early spring cleaning.

Near the back I found a pair of black boots. They were worn, but perfect. Mid-calf height, soft but still shiny and high enough to give some lift without making me totter. I loved those boots. I could wear them with anything, my favorite turquoise wrap dress, work pants, jeans and of course with anything black.

They even found their way into a sexy Halloween costume once. Sadly, their time had come. So with my credit card and laptop in hand I went in search of a new black boot.

When visiting someone for the weekend or overnight, doesn’t it feel weird to realize you wore the wrong shoes and are now stuck with them for the entire visit?

I had this pair of chunky-heeled boots I wore all the time during my senior year of college. They were black, came up a few inches past the ankle, laced up, and had a huge chunky heel. In a way they resembled combat boots with a big fat heel. I’m 5′ 7″ and wearing these boots made me 5′ 11″ or thereabouts, so I always felt like a giant walking across campus. I loved them, however, so it didn’t matter that I sometimes felt like a large Scandinavian woman named Helga while wearing them. These boots were my footwear of choice when I went to visit a friend of mine in Princeton for the weekend. My friend might be five feet tall, but barely. I also met her then-boyfriend for the first time, who was about 5′ 5″, as well as her other friends who weren’t exactly future NBA players, either. Needless to say, I felt like the large Amazonian friend visiting the people of Munchkinland for the weekend! I didn’t mind too much feeling like a giant all weekend, but now, before selecting my footwear for the day, evening, or weekend, I ask myself whether or not I want to be nearly six feet tall today and whether or not Munchkinland is on my schedule before leaving my apartment!

What shoes go well with a pink slip? As my eyes moved down the shoe rack hanging over my closet door, I calmly weighed my options.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t trying to match my shoes to a garment – this pink slip was the kind that sends you reeling into denial, anger and last but not least, the unemployment office. I knew it was coming, I even had the right outfit. I just couldn’t settle on the shoes. Would it be the red vintage-esque Marc Jacobs peep-toes I found on sale last week? No, too new. Perhaps my sassy patent Stuart Weitzman 4-inch stilettos? Too sexy. Something seemed wrong about each pair that my eyes landed on. I needed a pair of warrior shoes, a combat boot of sorts that would carry me through this ordeal with the least amount of battle wounds.