The Red Shoes audition
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General) North American (US Upper Midwest - Fargo, Minnesota)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
part one. The desire for the red shoes needing something more. My love for shoes began when I was only two years out of college and working at LaSalle Bank in Chicago. Every day I interacted with women who had gorgeous hair, gorgeous bags, gorgeous clothes and gorgeous jewellery. And every day I was transformed back into that seven year old, painfully shy and awkward little girl from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, who had a bowl cut and buck teeth. To say I felt inept is an understatement. I struggled to find my niche in a world of confident, accomplished, beautiful women. I was insecure about my professional credentials and my personal style. To make matters worse, I was low on cash. Will I ever belong here? One evening after work, I stopped into a shoe store just down the street from my office. It wasn't fancy, just a sea of shoe boxes on folding tables, with a display shoot carefully perched at the top of each pile. I would be lucky if I could pull out my size without disrupting the entire tower. Shoebox ginger. I strolled between the tables, casually browsing, but didn't see anything of particular interest. I was there maybe 15 minutes when I turned to leave, and suddenly they appeared. A pair of shoes, the pair of shoes, cheaply made, patented leather black and white polka dot sling back heels. If you look close enough, you could see that some of the white paint had already flecked off the polka dots. I didn't care. There were $29 and they called my name. I carefully slid the box, marked 8.5 from the tower, removed the lid and peeled back the tissue. I couldn't wait to slip them on. The **** was only about 2.5 inches tall, but it felt like a mile. I set them on the floor, slipped my foot into them and then bent over to figure out the sling back straps. Is this where it's supposed to go? I fumbled to get them on, but as soon as I stood up, something was different. I was different. I know that may sound trite or ridiculous or absolutely nuts, but it is true. I stood taller. I felt more courageous. I took deeper breath. I walked with more presence. This painfully shy, awkward wallflower suddenly commanded her space I had superpower thes high heels were to me what the Web is to Spiderman. The hammer is tooth or the lasso of truth is toe Wonder Woman. In that moment, high heels became my secret weapon. I started to the check out and took them home. The next day, my heels quickly became the topic of conversation. I had found my niche and started building a collection of shoes that were affordable yet set me apart from the other women in the office. I was without a doubt, hooked on heels and the superwoman like feeling I had every time I slipped them on. My love for shoes and the fearlessness they gave me blossomed, and I continue to push the edge as to what I could or should, where toe work while pursuing a corporate communications career. The more distinct the shoe, the greater my courage at work and in my personal life, brown patent leather pumps with teardrop cutouts around the toes. Sure, lime green suede mules with a peach bow on the front. You betcha. White and yellow peep toe block hills with a larger than life buckle that wrapped around the toe, absolutely black as night leather stilettos with dagger like five inch heels? ****, yes. With my high heels on, I continued to climb the corporate ladder and into a good life. The good life. Fast forward. 12 years. And by all measures, I had made it. Life was good. I had a good career and income, married a good man, birth to good kids, lived in a good neighborhood in the good state of Colorado, ate good food and drink good wine. There was only one problem with my good life. I was slowly dying from it.