1981 - Women's Shoes

The Solitary Isle Women’s Shoes
For women who have walked through enough bullshit to stop being impressed by it.

The Solitary Isle Women’s Shoes are for the woman who has spent enough of her life carrying everyone else’s shit that she has finally decided some of it can stay exactly where it fucking belongs.

She has been helpful.

She has been patient.

She has listened to problems that could have been solved by five minutes of independent thought and somehow ended up being her responsibility anyway.

A truly magnificent waste of a perfectly good nervous system.

She has been told she’s too blunt, too intimidating, too opinionated, too independent, too difficult, and occasionally “a lot.”

Good.

Being “a lot” is generally what happens when you stop being conveniently manageable for people who preferred you exhausted and agreeable.

The Solitary Isle Women’s Shoes are for the woman who has learned that every time she says, “Sure, I can do that,” somewhere in the distance, another piece of her soul quietly packs a suitcase.

She no longer runs after people.

She has things to do.

More importantly, she has developed an appreciation for watching other people deal with the consequences of their own fucking decisions.

She has made plenty of her own, naturally.

Some spectacularly bad.

She has ignored red flags, trusted questionable people, bought things she absolutely did not need, stayed in situations long after common sense had filed a formal complaint, and occasionally convinced herself that “this probably won't end badly.”

It did.

Obviously.

But she survived, which is becoming an increasingly irritating habit.

She doesn't need anyone telling her to slow down, calm down, smile more, or “let things go.”

She has let plenty go.

Mostly people.

And she's doing much better.

The Solitary Isle Women’s Shoes: for women who have walked through enough shit to know exactly where they're going—and have no intention of stopping to explain it to some asshole standing in the way.