Now that clogs were back in style this past sum-
mer, I’m reminded of an early sexual experience. It was
near the end of summer. I was in seventh or eighth
grade and had just biked home from swimming practice.
My dad worked in the city and my mom was away for the
day, so Stacia, our baby-sitter, was there to take care
of my baby brother.
Stacia lived behind us, one house over. I had a
mad crush on her, but she had just finished high school
and I could only worship her from afar. Here ash blond
hair and her throaty voice made her seem wild and un-
tamed to me. I was always flustered around her, with
conflicted feeling of lust, embarrassment, and awe. We
were about the same height. However, she always wore a
pair of brown, wooden clogs with three inch platforms,
so it felt like she towered over me. Clogs were pretty
popular back then and quite a few girls wore them to
school. Stacia’s clogs had the highest heels, though.
Anyway, I’ll always associate brown, high heel clogs
with Stacia and a wonderful, early sexual experience.
Stacia was in the living room watching a soap
opera on TV. I came in all excited and nervous and
stammered out a hi. She smiled up at me.
“My, don’t you look cute in that skimpy, blue
swim suit,” she teased.