I used to be the kind of person who owned shoes for every hypothetical scenario. My closet was a graveyard of barely worn footwear—strappy heels for occasions that never came, trendy sneakers that went out of style before I broke them in, and boots that pinched my toes but looked “cool enough” to justify the pain. Then, one sweltering summer day, as I stared at my overstuffed shoe rack while late for work, I had an epiphany: I don’t even like most of these.
That moment sparked a years-long shift toward minimalism, and surprisingly, it was a humble pair of sandals that became my greatest teacher.
The catalyst was a vacation gone wrong. I’d packed four pairs of shoes for a five-day beach trip—wedges for dinners, flip-flops for the pool, sneakers for “just in case,” and dressy sandals that matched my sundress but gave me blisters within an hour. By day three, I found myself wearing the same broken-in leather sandals for everything: morning hikes, afternoon cafes, even a nicer dinner where I’d planned to suffer in heels.
As I sat barefoot on the hotel balcony, my abandoned shoes piled like regret in the corner, I realized: I was happier with less.
At first, I worried limiting myself would feel restrictive. Instead, it was freeing. My sandals became the Swiss Army knife of my wardrobe because they: With thick socks, they worked for crisp fall days. In summer, they paired with everything from swimsuits to linen dresses.
Beyond practicality, wearing fewer shoes changed my mindset: Investing in one great pair meant no more settling for “good enough.
There’s a saying that minimalism isn’t about having less—it’s about making room for more of what matters. My sandals taught me that:Versatility beats variety. A well-chosen single pair outshines a closet of mediocre options.
Now, when I slip on my sandals (the same pair I’ve worn for three summers straight), I don’t see limitation. I see freedom—from clutter, from unnecessary choices, from the myth that we need so much stuff to be ready for life.
Minimalism isn’t about deprivation; it’s about curating a life (and closet) filled only with what serves you. For me, that started with realizing the simplest footwear—a single, perfect pair of sandals—could take me further than a mountain of shoes ever did.
After all, the best journeys aren’t about how much you carry. They’re about how lightly and freely you can walk.
