If the Shoe Hurts, Wear It!
Humanity’s flabbergasting fetish for footwear
Some shoes are works of art.
I’ve long admired what artists, cobblers, designers, and visionaries do to aesthetically enhance basic footgear.
What started out as a way to protect our feet from the ravages of hot desert sands, city mud, and muck, or swampy, boggy bottomland has built itself up into multi-faceted, multi-media wearable art forms.
I so want to applaud, just like I would for a Monet, Van Gogh, or Judy Chicago.
The inventiveness and variety of shoe art leave me amazed and breathless.
The ways that shoes can make us taller with platforms and heels make them the skyscrapers of the Prèt-à-Porter world.
Of course, back in the day, when the gutters ran ripe with chamber pot contents, you wanted to be as high as possible. Literally and figuratively. The world was a dangerous place. Sadly, it still is.
And what with wildfires and flooding on the rise, who knows what we’ll be putting on our toes to keep us safe and dry? Asbestos-toed boots with two feet high platforms? Your guess is as good as mine.
The shoes make the man or woman
Does anyone remember the cartoon character, Kathy from the ’80s? She offered an easy way to look five pounds thinner instantly — shoulder pads and high heels!
Skinny heels, skinny lady, right?
Or maybe we’re after the femme fatal look. Killer heels, killer lady, right?
The options to send subliminal messages about who we are in the world or what we’re up to are endless. Shoes are the foot soldiers of the fashion statement universe.
Continuing with the military metaphor, shoes can be weapons.
Ask any male tango dancer who’s been lanced in the balls during the gancho step, those flashy between the guy’s thighs whip-like flick kicks. If you have seething anger to express choreographically and telepathically, tango’s your dance. Stilettoes are your weapon.
As far as I know, they don’t have to be registered, nor do you have to be screened or tested to wear them, though a psychological profile might be in order.
But be forewarned
It’s a real art to walking, let alone dancing in these puppies without losing your balance. Even though Tony Perkins and Walter Matthau were hot babes in Some Like it Hot, did you notice how their ankles wobbled in basic pumps? Dead giveaway.
Modern drag queens on the other hand have mastered the art of becoming one with their shoes, walking proudly as well as sexily in them. We should all take lessons if we aspire to their caliber of confidence and grace.
Why does fashion trump comfort?
I never could figure this one out.
Who thought pointy toes were a good idea? Have they studied the shape of a human foot? I don’t know about your feet but my toe line is a round curve. Nothing pointy about it.
Yet I’ve often had to hunt through store after store for a round-toed shoe.
I think they only come into style about once every ten years. There must be timetables carefully hidden deep in the secret vaults of the fashion industry that only la creme de la creme are privy to.
Which, in my humble opinion belongs in the privy.
But they’re so cute!
They look so good on me!
Look, they match my new winter coat!
I just have to have these leopard print boots! They’re to die for.
Meanwhile, they’re killing your feet
Such are the sacrifices many of us make for fashion’s sake. Or maybe that’s what we think it takes to catch a mate.
Shoes are cultural icons worth collecting. Ask Imelda Marcos.
While we can only wear one pair at a time, there’s no limit to how many we can own. Even if the whole world is watching. It’s just too bad that her dictator despot of a husband gave her acquisitive aesthetic taste such a bad name. Her foot apparel addiction single-handedly kept Italy’s economy going for years.
I must confess I am not immune from the siren song of festive footwear.
I’ve pranced around many a shoe shop, my feet sinking into two inches of plush carpet thinking pretty comfy for a pointy-toed high heel. They looked and felt wonderful. In. The. Store.
No wonder they have those thick carpets
What if we had to try them on and parade around on linoleum, asphalt, or even a wooden dance floor? Sales might plummet. At least mine. I’d be back in the row of sensible vinyl Mary Janes I’ve bought at Payless Shoe Source for years.
My feet cried when they went out of business.
Fortunately, I found an even better, more comfortable substitute at The Walk Shop in Berkeley. Yes, I paid five times as much, but my feet started smiling again. And at my age, starting to have balance issues, I have to be fussy.
But if, like our dear friend, Carol Lennox, you can wear these gorgeous works of art, as you walk, run, and dance through your life, my hat’s off to you. Though I do feel sorry for your feet.
I’ll ooh and ahh from the sidelines in my Brook Addiction orthopedic athletic shoes and those pricey Mary Janes. You have my blessing.
I wear 42R birkenstocks. No style. Round toe or open toe. WIDE. AND if they do try cute, they don't come in 42 (11.5WW). Shoes suck but I'm too old now to go barefoot (74).