I wrote a blog post some time ago where I waxed poetic about my love of shoes. All kinds of shoes.
I wrote:
Stilettos. The queen bee of shoes.
When you are young, stilettos are just too much fun. Even if you don’t have good legs, stilettos will improve them considerably. If you do have good legs, men will weep.
They are indeed the Queen Bee of shoes.
I have long since quit wearing shoes to make men weep. I still wear stilettos now and again though. But I wear them for me because they make me smile. However, I have less and less opportunity to wear them as I don’t often get invited to stiletto-type events. I suppose I could wear them to the office – they are used to me showing up in all sorts of strange garb.
Those of you who know me even a tiny bit, know I have a shoe addiction and I love high heels which at my height is rather ridiculous.
I have never worn heels to be taller. However, I did start wearing them, because the right kind of heel will make my Fred Flintstone feet look smaller. I was very self-conscious about my big feet as a teenager. I wore a 9 when everyone else was in a 6 or a 7. By my early 20s, I was in a 10. And now? And now with falling arches, I wear an 11 or a 12.
My feet do look smaller in a heel, but I no longer care about that.
I simply wear cute shoes, but I don’t know what my aesthetic is exactly. I find all kinds of shoes “cute”. My house will attest to this. Not only do I have books everywhere, I have shoes everywhere. I have long since run out of closet room.
It’s very important to me that I have the exact right shoe for the outfit. I will often not wear either a new outfit or new shoes, because I don’t have the right combination yet. Yet! Yet is my downfall. I have way too many shoes.
But I find life too short for ugly shoes. I also don’t know what my aesthetic is there either. But I know an ugly shoe when I see them and won’t wear them. No matter how trendy. I didn’t wear Uggs, jellies, Birkenstocks, Dr. Scholls, or crocs because I thought them ugly. Duck feet shoes are not attractive on size 12 clodhopper feet no matter how cute the pedicure.
In recent years, my feet have begun complaining about my shoe choices. I attribute this to three foot surgeries (nothing to do with my shoe choices mind you), a bad back, and old age. My body is riddled with arthritis including my feet. Some shoes just hurt.
I have become more judicious about what shoes I wear to work, but still, I keep a pair of house shoes in my office for those days when the shoes just have to come off. Yes, I’ve been known to wander around the office in purple fuzzy slides. They’re cute.
I still wear silly shoes for dressier events. If there’s dancing involved, shoes often come off. I own fold-up ballet slippers in various colors. They come with a small bag and tuck neatly into one’s purse. I use these on planes and trains and those occasions when my shoes ARE TOO MUCH and I need something comfortable RIGHT NOW.
But the most ridiculous thing of all of this is that I’d rather be barefoot than just about anything. I was destined to move to West Virginia and personify the barefoot stereotype. I have sported bare feet in many places. Many. I have gone into the post office barefoot. And I have wandered a cute little artist colony in Massachusetts barefoot. I was of course barefoot in Hawaii and Mexico, but also in Wisconsin in the depth of winter and here in my house year-round. I even was barefoot at the funeral visitation for my father.
I worked with a gentleman from Ethiopia once. This was before I purchased slippers for the office. It was routine that I would get to work, kick my shoes off and run around our Marshall University Old Main suite of offices barefoot. This just drove him crazy. He would patiently explain to me that he was 12 before he owned his first pair of shoes. Bare feet were a sign of ignorance and poverty and backward ways. I would nod. And say how interesting but continued my practice of frolicking barefoot. He was not my boss. He could frown all he wanted to.
As I age, I can see a future of sensible shoes. It will probably be my death knell when I reach that point. Life is too short for ugly shoes. I’ll have to figure something out to pizazz up my orthopedic walkers when the time comes.
W. Va. Fur and Root 