They found a 5,500-year-old shoe the other day in a cave in Armenia. Just the one–it was like the sale rack at Nordstrom’s. The archaeologist who found it was very excited at first, because she had always dreamed of finding a shoe. Except she was hoping for something in a pump. This one was more of a Buster Brown–a sturdy leather number, musk ox maybe, in size 7 with eyelets and laces with the little mastodon-ivory jobbers at the ends to make the lacing easier. A fine shoe in every way, and just the sort of thing I might have picked out. It was perfectly preserved in mounds of sheep dung. This is a sensible place to look for a shoe. Even back then, if a guy loses his shoe in a deep enough pile of sheep poo, he’s going to look at it and think, shoot. I can always get another musk ox.
I don’t have a lot of shoes. Usually there’s a cute-shoe gene strapped right on to the X chromosome, but in my case it’s missing. I not only rarely refer to shoes as “cute,” but I’m drawn to shoes that look more like men’s, and buy women’s styles only under duress. This is true even though I am aware that Dave is an aficionado of women’s shoes. I wore a uniform at work and have never had to maintain a proper wardrobe. It was a chore to come up with a decent outfit on special occasions, because I didn’t even have the basics, so every time I would have to buy hosiery and accessories and a suitable coat as well to pull it all together. Plus the shoes. At that point I’d usually give up and suggest we stay home instead.
When our friend Peg got married, a group of us decided to doll up big-time, so we trolled the thrift stores together until we got a theme (it was “pink”). I even found some pink three-dollar heels to match. Dave warned me, soberly, that I’d need to practice wearing the heels, and that he’d need to be nearby to spot me. “Walk towards me,” he said, so I did, then “okay, turn and walk away from me–slowly, slowly,” so I did, and this went on for a very long time. I was pretty sure I had it down, but Dave insisted, in a dreamy, far-away voice, that I couldn’t be too careful.
I did buy a few pairs of shoes through the years that I really liked, and even when they went out of fashion, I couldn’t give them up. This worked out a few years ago when my nearly-new Uggs from the eighties came roaring back, but it was a whole different story with the Cherokees. The Cherokees were ribbon sandals with a saucy ankle strap and a towering, narrow rubbery platform heel that nearly doubled my height. Sexy as hell, I thought, and because the heel was rubbery, they were easy to wear, even for someone like me who’s been known to tip over just from changing my mind too fast. I bought them in the early seventies but they fell out of favor when a different kind of heel gained ascendance, and I stashed them in the closet. For 25 years.
Then we got invited to a fancy dinner and I bought a slinky dress and realized my beloved Cherokees would totally work again. Off we went. As I sashayed into the venue, I stumbled a bit on what looked like gravel. Inside, I stumbled a little more. Finally, I discovered to my horror that my rubbery heels were disintegrating into crumbs with every step. Just before the other guests were able to cop to the fact that I was shrinking visibly before their eyes, I sat at the table and refused to get up. “Jeez, look at that,” the person next to me said, “someone dumped their rolls onto the carpet and the crumbs are getting all over. What a putz.” At the end of the evening I strolled out of the restaurant barefoot, affecting a bohemian air.
Next time, I’m totally storing them in sheep dung.
Love this. I wore cute shoes when I was young. That madness resulted in three surgeries for ingrown toenails on my left foot and four on my right. I now wear Dansko clogs, in every color I can find them (new) on eBay, or men's sneakers. No peep-toe shoes. No pretty summer sandals. That shoe gene has emulated Elvis and left the building.
I once had a pair of shoes disintegrate. I had forgotten them in the basement for a time, but they were nice shoes, so I put them on. By the end of the workday, I was walking around shoeless.
I just bought a pair of red peek a toe shoes…just because I have never had a pair of red shoes. I have worn them once just because I should…the fact that they are very uncomfortable means they will look shiny under the bed where all the other unmentionalbes are kept!
I don't get the whole shoe thing either, in fact, I don't even get shoes. I'm barefoot most of the time.
We have a shoe museum in Toronto…
I have been to that museum and it's very cool!
Even though I'm not a typical shoe gal either.
Funny how fashions recycle.
I go for comfort, too.
I found a pair of semi-nice shoes at a uniform store.
When I wear them, I feel just like a doctor!
Oh, shoes–my favorite things to buy. BECAUSE, unlike the rest of me, my feet are staying the same size!
So, my shoe wear–for summer, sandals. If Clarks makes it, I own it.
For winter–clogs. If Clarks makes it, I own it.
Seriously–I have black clogs, brown clogs, green clogs, maroon clogs, navy clogs…grey clogs, tan clogs…thinking thinking–that's it.
I used to live in darkness, also. But then my shoe epiphany came and I saw the light.
Ironically, soon after that, I became unable to wear cute shoes because they hurt my middle-aged feet; somehow the cute factor was negated by the ungainly-limping factor. Now I live in Fitflops and get a workout while I walk.
In theory.
Also, they are supposed to make my butt get smaller.
In theory.
My husband claims they are working, but I'm sure he is just too scared to say otherwise.
Or what? You'll sit on him?
I have pretty shoes (which I love) decorating the inside of my closet. I have not so pretty comfortable shoes that I actually wear on my feet.
I remember watching a game show years ago where husbands and wives were tested on what they knew about each other. The question was "Would your wife wear something that is pretty but uncomfortable", and the wife answered "Not anymore". I've always admired that answer.
Another great piece of writing.
I'm a total shoe ho. I love all the fabulous heels that are out now. I don't think I can remember a times when there were more fabulous shoes. I will wear them even if they hurt like hell. Once I fell off a cute new pair of red heels and broke my neck. Neck healed, I recovered. Despite urgings from friends, I still have to heels. Now I just drink a little less Tequila when wearing them.
Back in the day, oh yes, I remember the 4" heels. I was tall and thin and looked, felt, great. However, add 35 years, 35 pounds and 1 foot surgery, they are not so much for me anymore. Have to say, however, that when I see today's tall thin girls looking great in their high strappy shoes, my quick pang of regret and perhaps tiny flash of envy, is quickly followed by a "You go girl!". Life does go on… and in my experience, only gets better.
Have you noticed, ladies, that only one male commented? I'm telling you, there is just something about shoes.
Tevas Crocs, and Birkenstocks since I had falling arches and my arthritis in my feet occurring at the same time. Comfort first these days.
Since I have discovered Vibram Five Fingers (toed shoes), there is no going back. Absolutely the best shoes I have ever owned. NO heel. I think that those who wear and promote high heels are crazy. It's like promoting tobacco or something. Totally bad for you. Causes severe, long term health consequences, but it makes you feel good for a little while.
I think every comment here is from wimmin! That's 'cause men just have hardly anything to say about female foot apparel. We just go with the shrug.
But I can say, as usual, your writing is delightful.
Is that you in those pictures? Not only heels but PINK heels. Wow. And that hosiery! What fun.
I was born with the cute shoe gene, but I live in terminal disappointment because my feet can no longer tolerate anything higher than 3 degrees. I've taken to wearing expensive flip-flops, the kind that have actual arch support and are super cushy for my aching dogs.
It's possible they may find my flip-flops buried in, say, cat poo in a couple thousand years. Cat poo has preservative properties as yet undiscovered by science, but will be an archeologist's dream because they'll be able to just scoop it out and brush the crystals off.
🙂
Only 5,500 years old?? Hell, Oregon has that beat: the Fort Rock Sandals are 11,000 years old and firmly set in place our position as the Birkenstock Capital of the Northwest.
Note the lack of a heel. That is clearly a prototype Croc.
You can believe me. I am a genuine anthropologist. (Or at least I was 45 years ago.)
Shoes? Well that's Birks, tennies, and boots. Three pairs does it for me.
Waders? Well that's a whole 'nother story. I've got my irrigation boots for those cute little streams, my hip waders for the more high class excursions, and then there's the chest waders for the big events. The felted feet for some occasions, the lugged boots for the others. Oh, and then there's the super handy all-in-ones that are my go-to waders for just about any occasion. And don't get me started on the cute little pockets, both interior and exterior, zipped or velcroed, waterproof or just watertight. And the belts…weighted, buckled, strappy…
So many choices, so few that fit!
It's a variant form of the shoe gene, obviously.
Shoes are what set us apart from the animals. Or men. And may I say, what a finely turned ankle you have?
Nearly doubled your height…I am so glad that yours isn't just another blog filled with stories that sound just a tad too good to be true.
I am a male, yet I have more shoes than you. The reason is that I used to be such a sucker for sales that I bought and bought until one day it hit me that I would be dead before I could use them all up. More than 20 years later, I STILL have shoes that I've never worn.
Like you, I just don't care that much about shoes. Although, like Dave, I can appreciate a nice heel's effect on a woman's leg. Mostly, I just want my shoes to be comfortable. I never look at other people's shoes as a status symbol, and don't care whether the president wears tennis shoes or expensive dress shoes. It doesn't affect what he does, so it doesn't matter to me. As for those 5,500-year-old shoes: They look comfortable, but I would need more arch.
I like cute shoes, but I realize my version of cute is pretty different from many women's. For one, it doesn't include much of a heel. For another, it pretty much has to be something with a Swedish sounding name and also be very very comfortable. also Converse is acceptable. and cowgirl boots. that's the nice thing about TX. you can put on sandals or cowgirl boots with anything.
Fragrant: wouldn't that be a boon to paleontology if they'd come up with Clumping Dinosaur Litter?
Robert: Yes. The famous ancient Oregon sandals. They're still looking for the wooly socks–they've gotta be around somewhere.
I'd write more, but I just got back from a REALLY steep hike and I'm thinking of just slicing my feet off.
Whoa Kat, an entire waders collection? You are a swamp-trompin' god. My kinda gal. And thank you, Mme. DeFarge. You always class up this joint.
Hey Murr, Ungrisly of you to focus on the shoe and ignore the foot that was still in the Musk Ox sandal. Did you know they found seven feet in tennis shoes up in Toronto (I think). Shoes are deadly and will take your feet when they can. All of mine are black, loquacious things that announce my presence before I come into a room, except for my Crocs, which are 2 sizes too big so I feel like I'm wearing nothing. Once I gave away 15 pair of shoes to my sister, all black, round toed, humorless things, then spent the next year purchasing similar shoes to "change my look." They look like your shoes. Like we came from a Russian work camp. My dad always called them "sensible" shoes, so the more I have, the more sense I have. Right?
Tevas Crocs, and Birkenstocks since I had falling arches and my arthritis in my feet occurring at the same time. Comfort first these days.
Another great piece of writing.
I'm a total shoe ho. I love all the fabulous heels that are out now. I don't think I can remember a times when there were more fabulous shoes. I will wear them even if they hurt like hell. Once I fell off a cute new pair of red heels and broke my neck. Neck healed, I recovered. Despite urgings from friends, I still have to heels. Now I just drink a little less Tequila when wearing them.
Or what? You'll sit on him?
Funny how fashions recycle.
I go for comfort, too.
I found a pair of semi-nice shoes at a uniform store.
When I wear them, I feel just like a doctor!
Nearly doubled your height…I am so glad that yours isn't just another blog filled with stories that sound just a tad too good to be true.
I am a male, yet I have more shoes than you. The reason is that I used to be such a sucker for sales that I bought and bought until one day it hit me that I would be dead before I could use them all up. More than 20 years later, I STILL have shoes that I've never worn.
Love this. I wore cute shoes when I was young. That madness resulted in three surgeries for ingrown toenails on my left foot and four on my right. I now wear Dansko clogs, in every color I can find them (new) on eBay, or men's sneakers. No peep-toe shoes. No pretty summer sandals. That shoe gene has emulated Elvis and left the building.