Walk A Mile In Merlot's Shoes
A come up, coming out, and coming-to-terms story from a musician wearing a pair of far-out fisherman sandals, in partnership with Labucq.
By Merlot
Photography by David Spector
Published
In partnership with Labucq, we’ve asked our favorite musicians, actors, writers, and creative individuals in lower Manhattan a burning question: What is it really like to walk a mile in your shoes? Merlot, our first guest, walks you through a mile in her own wearing Labucq’s Boomer Sport in Silver.
Merlot, just Merlot, has been capturing the hearts of downtown NYC through both sound and soirees for years. A singer, party host, and bartender, she moved to New York after studying jazz at Berklee College of Music in Boston. She dropped out, betting on herself and her talents, and has since released three singles with millions of streams and has worked with everyone from Rihanna to Madonna (you can find her music here). She has amassed millions of streams across multiple platforms for her original music, and more recently, she dipped her sandal-clad toe into acting. Her debut film role in a new movie, "Messy," is slated to premier in 2024.
Below, Merlot tells us an honest story — a tribute to the people in her life who have walked the journey alongside them — about what it’s like to strap her silver shoes on and get to walking.
It’s nine P.M. on a school night in 2008. I’ve just come out to my mother as “gay,” though this wouldn’t be the last time I came out.
For some people, coming out is simply left up to insinuation or a glance. I’m baffled when queer friends of mine tell me they never had to come out of the closet at all. But my closet was a walk-in, laden with safety deposit boxes and a safe room behind the winter coats. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ve found my way entirely out just yet.
In an upbringing full of women, it’s hard to realize you’re a man. My “family” was and is made of powerful women, with men taking the backseat to be the provider at least, or at best, a convertible ride to church. Among them was my grandmother, two aunts, and a laundry list of godmothers who jumped at the opportunity to impart on my life and show me the ropes. But the most independent of all, the woman I look up to the most in this patriarchal world, is my mother.
My mother is an English teacher with two master’s degrees. She gave me the gift of gab by assigning me the domestic homework of watching Gilmore Girls and Drew Barrymore romcoms as early as 8 years old. It is her fault that anyone had the mind to recruit me to write an essay in the first place. She was a single mother to an only child, and our relationship was complicated. It’s only recently that I’ve begun to think of her as my best friend.
When given the task to answer the simple, yet largely abstract question, “What’s it like to walk a mile in your shoes?”, my mind drew a blank. I tried to pontificate on the literal sights and sounds and textures of my everyday life. When that proved to be a narrative snooze, I pressured myself to think outside of the box. What did it mean to be Merlot? What did it feel like?
The truth is that to catch even the slightest glimpse into the inner workings of my mind, it would require a rich history lesson detailing every experience I’ve had up until this point. It would be an exhausting tell-all about the journey I’ve been on (am still on) in regards to my gender, race & and socioeconomic class, but one can only walk so far in under one thousand words.
So instead, I’ll offer this essay as a tribute. A tribute to the only people in my life who walked on that journey alongside me every step of the way, and the people without whom I’d never be able to articulate my life’s ups and downs. The people through which I view the world in an elaborate kaleidoscope of uncertainty and change. My family. And no, not just my “chosen” family (who I also undoubtedly owe my life to), but my literal blood-born family.
The women in my life have varying stages of conservatism between them, my mother being the most liberal of them all. But it is to them that I owe my life, for carving me and shaping me out of the clay, though I might not have always thought of them as the most capable potters.
It is due to their wildly tough love and their capacity for love that I was able to forge out of the fires of my small town adolescence and that I could move to New York and be brave enough to follow my dreams. It’s because of them that I learned to debate what was wrong and right and stick up for myself during the most trying hardships. Without them I would be weak, or worse, a man!
To walk a mile in my shoes would be impossible without getting scolded for trying on your aunt’s heels as a child, or wearing your mom’s fuzzy slippers to help her get groceries out of the car. They are an imperfect coven, but all of the best shoes collections are. For all of their flaws and all of the hardship we’ve been through, they are mine and I am theirs, and it is through their eyes that I am able to view my future at all.
When all signs told me to stray, I am only alive now because my mother woke up everyday and chose me, and for that I choose her. I guess that’s the thing any trans woman can tell you about the most amazing shoes: It’s hard to find the perfect fit. It’s the assortment of styles, the memories made and the memories to come that make the perfect collection.
