If the shoe fits, buy a couple more pairs
I’m going to put the shoe on the other foot for a moment, trying
to understand the female compulsion with footwear. The fact that
ladies’ shoes are even called footwear speaks to their reverential
place in the fairer sex’s world of fashion.
If the shoe fits, buy a couple more pairs
I’m going to put the shoe on the other foot for a moment, trying to understand the female compulsion with footwear. The fact that ladies’ shoes are even called footwear speaks to their reverential place in the fairer sex’s world of fashion.
For most men, shoes are utilitarian – kind of a tougher version of socks. They serve as a barrier between our ripped and smelly socks and the ground. The shoes I wore on the day I wrote this were purchased four years ago; or 56 years in women’s shoe years.
If my shoes are not ripped (too badly) and I can step in a puddle without the sole of my feet getting wet, then they are staying in the closet and in my wardrobe rotation.
In my late teens when I realized my foot wasn’t going to grow anymore, it was like winning the lottery.
“You mean I will never, ever outgrow these shoes?” I thought, as I looked in my closet of junky footwear. “I can pass them on to my children!”
I probably thought the same thing about the jeans I was wearing at the time but those 32-waisters were long ago sold at a garage sale after I added some baby weight (what, only moms can use that line?)
So because my foot size has remained the same over the past couple of decades, buying shoes is like buying a car – I like the smell of the new leather and I keep them impeccably clean for a while. And if I get a few good years’ use out of them, it was a wise investment.
When my wife talks about shoes, it’s akin to the way I talk about a good steak. There’s a faraway look as she describes a good pair of heels and I’m pretty sure her mouth starts watering.
In a recent entry on her blog (maryakamom.blogspot.com), my wife wrote about the adrenaline rush she feels when she walks into a shoe store. I get the same adrenaline rush when I’m with her near a shoe store, but my adrenaline is urging me to run away from the store really fast in my old shoes.
My wife admits to having a shoe addiction.
“I don’t feel guilty when I buy two or more pairs,” she said. “You never know when that third pair of black heels will come in handy.”
She says that I call her the Noah of shoes, because she always has to buy them in twos; as in two pairs.
I feel guilty when I buy two matching shoes, much less two pairs, and I can’t understand the need for owning multiple pairs of shoes that look exactly the same.
My wife’s shoe compulsion extends beyond the fancy stuff. She loves tennis shoes and flip-flops, especially if there are two pairs that have slight color variances that justify – in her mind – the purchase, because then they’ll match with more clothing items that look like each other in her closet.
When I was a younger and less worldly married man – and wearing a pair of shoes that I’ll bet are still in my closet by the way – I tried to reason with my wife about her shoe purchases.
“Those look fine, let’s go,” I’d say after she found a pair that she liked, hoping to – pardon the pun – shoo her away from the shoe aisle before she found something else she liked.
“No wait,” she’d counter. “These go with my work clothes, but I need a pair that goes with jeans.”
She’d then buy a pair that looked pretty much the same to my untrained eye and I’d let it bother me.
Now, as I creep toward middle age and am more comfortable in my shoes, so to speak, I have learned to let it be. She works hard for her money, so if she wants to buy two pairs of black heels that look exactly the same as the four pairs that she already has in the closet, that’s fine with me. Momma’s happy; everybody’s happy.
Time has taught me that some battles are not worth fighting. You can try to walk in someone else’s shoes to understand their motives, but I’d break an ankle if I tried that in her pumps.
Instead, I let my wife visit the shoe store by herself while I use my old, comfortable shoes to go get a Jamba Juice and chocolate chip cookie and wonder why I can’t fit into size 32 pants any longer. Hey, if the shoe fits …
Check out Adam’s blog at http://thebreenblog.blogspot.com. Adam wears comfortable shoes when he is teaching newspaper and yearbook classes at San Benito High School or reporting for The Pinnacle. He is the former editor of The Free Lance, where he wore some of the same shoes that are still in his closet today.
