The Quinceañera: The Perfect Pair of Heels

       In the life of any traditional Latina, there are two important dates. One is the day she walks down the aisle dressed in white and the other day she becomes a young woman at the age of fifteen. My Quinceañera was no exception, but what I didn't anticipate was all the drama. Planning a Quinceañera is not an easy task. Before the huge celebration, there are tons of planning, cooking and errands to run.

It was a Saturday morning, and the entire neighborhood was dotted with yard sales. “What color did you have in mind for your dress?” my mother asked while she stirred the pancake batter. “No clue? Anything but pink, it's been done too much,” I replied. “How about red?” suggested my aunt across the kitchen. “You can't be serious! Do you want me to look like a giant tomato?” I yelled back. Later that evening, my color options were narrowed to the color peach. Now that I had decided on the perfect color, we had to decide on what the dress would look like, where we would acquire this dress from, and of course the cost.

    “I don't want one of those puffy dresses like those other girls!” I told my cousin who had come to visit the family. “It would be problematic to move around all those people in a huge dress,” I shrugged. While sitting in our old worn out brown sofa, my mother suggested, “How about you have your cousin sew you a dress; she's a seamstress after all.” The idea sounded rather good to me. In a blink of an eye, I found myself in the center of our white tiled living room having my measurements taken by my personal seamstress, my cousin. About two weeks later she came back, this time with a large party bag decorated with an image of an elegant young women dressed in a formal Victorian style dress and the words “Para la Quinceañera” printed on the outside of the bag. Inside of it was a carefully folded dress. It was the dress of my dreams, I began to weep. The dress had been fashioned out of a shimmery peach colored fabric. The hems of the skirt reached to my ankles while the top portion resembled a corset. She had also added wide straps for comfort and a matching “Bolero jacket” to cover my bare shoulders and back.

With the dress all done, we moved on to the accessories for the soon to be “Quinceañera”. We visited several shops and found the traditional diamond incrusted tiara with a matching necklace. However we lacked one thing, the perfect pair of heels. Being a tall girl means having extremely large feet. I wear a size ten. For most of my life, I had only worn sneakers and flip - flops. I had no idea how to properly walk in this “life endangering footwear”. Owning a pair of high heels never really crossed my mind, not in until a couple of days before the party.

       My family and I visited several shoe stores, always finding the right style but never the right fit. “Welcome to blah-blah shoes can I help find your perfect pair?” said an older woman with the largest insincere smile, big puffy red hair and a face smeared with heavy make-up. This had been store number fourteen; I was hungry, and had given all hope in finding the perfect pair of heels. “Yes, we are to looking for some nice formal dress shoes for my daughter’s Quinceañera” said my mom for the fourteenth time still with the same sense of pride as when we first began our search. ”Oh yes ma'am, can you please follow me “. We followed her through the dimly lit, narrow aisle of the tiny shoe store. The place reeked of foot odor and loud mariachi music played on the speakers. “This is our Palace Princess collection; we have a variety of styles, colors and sizes” said the woman with her best T.V host voice. “Not another sales pitch!” I began to think while I scanned the whole store expecting to find something to distract me. Right away I was seated on a small stool and handed several boxes of shoes to try on. I was reluctant to try any of the shoes. I stared into my mother’s big brown eyes half expecting her to say we should move on to the next store. “Hurry, missy we don't have all day your father has been up since 4 A.M and he wants to go home and rest. To avoid any arguments I gave in to my mother's request and began placing my aching feet inside an obviously used strappy heel. I began to make up excuses for each pair of shoes placed in front of me. The sales woman was determined to sell us the product and hand us a booklet and suggested us to order of the catalog.

      We walked out of the shop; I felt a sense of relief of to breathe fresh air. My mother’s face no longer carried the same enthusiasm as before; she now carried her head closer to the ground as we walked to our forest green Chevy Silverado truck. We had been at it since nine in the morning and the sun had already set on my dream of finding the perfect pair of heels. In my mind, I imagined Prince Charming searching for me with glass slippers but he was too late and this modern Cinderella had to retire back into her tower.

       That night I closed my eyes and began to dream, I saw myself standing in front of the church alter wearing my perfect dress, with my hair very intricately curled. The Pastor now stood on the platform and began praying and giving thanks to God for allowing me to live up to this very special date. As the prayer ended, I turned around to face the congregation and loud applause erupted followed by an avalanche of loud mean- spirited laughter and whispering. Confused on what was happening, I looked down at the crowd and noticed a little girl pointing at my feet. Slowly my eyes followed the contours of my dress until I reach my feet and noticed I was wearing outrageously big, ruby red, plastic clown shoes.

“Wake up!” my mother cried as she entered my bedroom. It had been a nightmare, yet the image of those red clown shoes were now impregnated into my mind. “I have to make a payment at Kohl's, and was wondering if you wanted to join me and your dad.” murmured my mom as she realized that I still trying to wake-up. The car drive seemed to last for an eternity, as I stared at the window watching the cars passing by. When we arrived in the parking lot, I noticed a great red banner with bold white letters draped over the building next to Kohl’s. The banner declared “Famous Footwear Now Open”. I figured one more shoe store wouldn’t do me any harm. So I dragged my mother through the glass doors of the new shoe store. The place was spacious and sleek looking. Thousands of shoes were laid out on display. As we went down the aisles my mother warned ,“If we don’t find those shoes here, you’ll have to wear flip-flops.” I ignored her, and then suddenly we stopped in the clearance section of the store. I skimmed the shoe racks and from the corner of my eye I noticed a shoe with the identical color of my dress. My heart began to race as held my breath to reach for the plain white shoe box. There it was the perfect peach color pointed toe kitten heel in a size 10! My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe my eyes; was this miracle I had been praying for? I held the box like a newborn baby and carried it to the cashier. “Did you find everything you need today?” said the handsome young cashier. “Yes I did!” I said. I handed him the box and he gently scanned it on the scanner. “Blip” sounded the computer “Your total today will be $8.37” said the cashier. I had been so much in a hurry that I didn’t even notice the price. This only sweetened even more the deal.

The day of my Quinceañera came and went. It was beautiful, the food was delicious and the ceremony made many faces tear up. I received several compliments on my gown; several guest ask me where I had purchased it. I replied that it was a custom made dress by a very special designer. Ironically, no one really notice my shoes !

What I learned that day was beyond my journey of finding the perfect pair of footwear. It was the importance of family, faith and continuously keeping hope when all seems dark. Even if I had entered the church barefoot, it wouldn’t even matter. What mattered was giving thanks to God for another year of life.