The Workhorse

These are my go-to tango shoes. Every time. I have them in green, too, but somehow it ends up that these silver sandals are the ones that carry me across the dance floor.

When I went to Buenos Aires last year, I really did not comprehend what an extravaganza of shoes awaited me. MJ, L. and I were gluttons. I don't know how to say it nicely. We went out tango shoe shopping every day for two weeks. We didn't want to miss anything.

Our teacher told us to stop buying shoes. But we didn't listen. And every night we would have a fashion show before going out to a milonga and the others in our group would clamor to see what "the girls" had bought this time.

(Well, maybe they didn't clamor, but they were interested.) We were very fashionable. It was fun!

So I barely got everything into my suitcase. I bought 12 pairs of tango shoes, a whole bunch of dulce de leche for Mr. L., and some hats from the flea market in San Telmo. I had to leave some clothes behind at the hotel just so I could cram all of those shoes in my bags.

A year later, I find that this silver pair is the winner. Some pairs I've worn maybe once. Some are completely abandoned. This silver pair wasn't the one I expected to fall in love with. But that's how love works, right? You never can tell.