Sometimes the Gods of Thrift smile upon you.
Or you get lucky.
Either way, I was over the moon to find a brand new pair of Wifa skates, in my size, with a pink case (!) and skate guards, for a mere $6 at my local thrift store. The cost of the skate guards, in effect.
As a former figure skater, this was an unbelievable score.
These are proper leather, heavy, serious skates, Just as I remember them to be.
I took figure skating lessons from my toddler to late teen years. Growing up in a tiny Canadian prairie town, I went to the skating rink all winter and to the swimming pool all summer. These were the only “sports” that interested me. Karen Magnussen was my idol. I saw her skate in The Ice Capades.
I was an avid skater and participated in competitions, did solos at carnivals in elaborate costumes sewn by my mother, and as a senior, often went to the rink at 6 a.m. to practice before school. I still have the ghost of a scar on my wrist from the boiling water that splash over the edge of my thermos while making hot chocolate to take with me one such morning many decades ago.
I could do figures, ice dancing, spins and jumps—double axels, triple lutzes—that I wouldn’t even think of attempting now. I’m sure I would get dizzy and falling down is not as insignificant as it once was. Even a bruise takes much longer to heal these days. Now I fondly marvel at the carefree obliviousness of youth.
Like riding a bike or playing the piano, you never forget how to skate. My son Max has an enthusiasm for hockey, so he skates in the Stick ‘n Puck rink while I skate in the public skating rink. Slowly but surely I’m breaking in my new skates. My muscle memory on ice is reawakening.
I noticed I was the only one wearing a skirt whilst skating.
Not everything needs to change.
SEE MY PUFFER POST: So NYC