Speaking of shoes, have you been inside a women’s shoe store lately?
Last week I poked my head into Highland Park’s . The platforms on most of the summer selections were so high I practically needed a stepladder to try them on. I’m not kidding. One misstep in some of these shoes and snap! You’d be down to one working ankle.
Now I’m no missionary when it comes to footwear. In fact, I’ve been known to step it up every now and then and teeter around in some pretty high heels. Ah, those were the days. But one bunion, two Morton’s neuromas and a descending metatarsal later, and I’m banned from anything lacking a Nike insole and some form of air cushioning.
It’s not fair. Let’s face it, most people look better in bit of a heel. That little lift tightens up the calves and the Jennifer Lopez region, forces us to stand up straighter, and propels us forward whether we want to mingle or not. But as my sister points out, unlike Barbie, our feet are not in the permanent high heel position. No matter how great a pair of shoes may feel walking around for two minutes in the carpeted confines of a store, once that credit card is swiped, feet begin to hurt. And that’s before they come out of the box. It’s actually a scientific fact.
So what’s a gal to do now that this season’s average heel height is greater than the total inches of snow accumulation we’ve had all winter? It’s the age-old conundrum. Look great or feel great.
Here’s a typical conversation that goes on in my house five minutes before my husband and I have to leave for a night out.
David: “Hurry up, we have to get going or we’ll be late.”
Betsy: “Which shoes do you like better?” (This is where I stick out my right foot and display a sexy four-inch black pump that looks great. Then I drop back down to my normal height and show him my left foot – picture a Dansko clog mated to a Merrill sandal.)
David: “The one on the right for sure.”
Betsy: “How far do we have to walk?”
David: “I’ll drop you off in front of the restaurant. Then we might go across the street afterwards for coffee.”
Betsy: “Walk across the street? I better wear the one on the left.”
David: “Fine. Let’s go.”
Betsy: “Maybe I’ll wear the comfortable ones to walk and bring the heels and put them on at the restaurant.”
David: “Fine. Let’s go.”
Betsy: “Or, I could wear the heels and then change when my feet begin to hurt.”
David: “Fine. Let’s go.”
Betsy: “Oh – maybe I’ll wear my boots… they have heels but I can last longer.”
David: “I’m leaving.”
Betsy: “Fine, I’ll wear the comfortable pair.”
Betsy: “Do you think I need a sweater?”
Betsy: “David?”
Sound of garage door opening. Betsy runs out of the house with one shoe on, one in the hand, a sweater and a jacket and a shawl. Yelling, “Do you like the sweater or…”
There is no end to this saga. It repeats itself every weekend in most homes in America. This is why shoe stores are in business. They dazzle us with new styles, new heights, new shapes and new fabrics. We adorn our closets with shelves and shelves of shoes that will never again see the light of day. They will forever be tried on and paraded around before husbands and then returned to their dusty perches where they will remain, unworn but lovely.
And to the makers of comfortable, practical and downright ugly footwear, I say thank you. And that is my new platform speech.
