I am a shoe whore. I admit it. And, I have absolutely no desire to fix it. I’m sure there are Shoe Anonymous groups where I could go and say, “Hi, my name is Paige, and I have a shoe problem,” but that ain’t happenin’. So if your comment is something negative about my shoe problem, just…keep…moving. I could not care less.
For the record here, Jean & I have always exchanged the word shoes for Choos because we’re dorks like that. I get looks and comments about my ‘choos’ all the time because my weakness is statement shoes. I go for ones that are not everyday, ones that are whimsical, often bright – always a show stopper. In my opinion, these make my outfits everything they should be. I need a shoe museum. Having said this, I will not buy a pair of shoes that are not comfortable, and have turned away many a lovely set for this reason. I’m all about takin’ that taxi, but for the time that I will stand in a shoe, it must be comfortable. As well, Jean & I generally covet high end designer shoes – if you like fashion, who doesn’t – they’re generally amazing, but generally unattainable due to price. We often share photos of gorgeous high end shoes with each other with the snarky commentary, “I’ll take 2 pair.” Hah.
Then along came these Choos. In general, I do not have a couture budget. Spending $1300 for a pair of shoes, not matter how insanely amazing they are, isn’t up my alley. But, if you know how to shop, stupidly amazing sales come along every once in a blue moon, and well, you can get that shoe for $340. Thank you Rue La La. (If you want to join, let us know and we’ll invite you!) TOTAL SPLURGE, I know… but I LOVE them, and I can say I saved $1000. Dumbass argument, but, oh well. Did I say I LOVE THEM! And they are ridiculously comfortable…It’s less than a 4″ heel, and they are extremely wearable and walkable, believe it or not.
Now, we’ve discussed that I live in a semi-rural town in Northern New England, and please, let your personal visuals guide you. Flannels, work boots, and Crocs abound. Yes, Crocs. I’ll admit I own a pair for around the house, but those things have never, ever left the driveway. I’ll simply say my style differs vastly than the majority of those in the town where I live. I like to dress up. I always have; even in college, I was the gal who wore a tweed blazer, dress slacks, and heels to class more often than not. I will never play down my style for the area in which I live. I suppose I’ll always likely stand out.
I had several appointments yesterday, so I wore these beauties with a black & white A-line dress. On my way to an appointment, I stopped in the Post Office, and I’m standing in line sandwiched between a lady with Crocs that had a medallion on them, a few other people, and a lady with high heeled Crocs. Medallion lady at least had a nice teeshirt tucked into decent jeans, and polished it off with a leather belt. High heeled Crocs lady had on spandex shorts and a teeshirt with holes. Welcome to my neighborhood.
The lace ups on my shoe started to slide down one leg, so I leaned down untied, readjusted, and retied them. Medallion Crocs lady says with a genuine smile, “Those are really cute, but they look like an awful lot of work.” I smiled and said, “Thank you, they’re not so bad to deal with.” We were several people back in line, and high heeled Croc lady had been bumped because she had no label on her package (really, lady?), and the postmaster asked her to step out to write the label so she could help the others waiting. High heeled Croc lady was now disgruntled high heeled Croc lady in spandex. When I came closer in line, disgruntled high heeled Croc lady turns and gives me a nasty look up and down, and barks, “How do you even wear them things?! They make my feet hurt just lookin’ at ’em.” I held my cards and smiled, politely saying nothing other than, “They’re remarkably comfortable, believe it or not.” Of course she grunted back, “Sure they are.” I wanted to say a lot, least of which was, “Don’t take your frustrations out on my Choos. Unlike you, they’re lovely.”
Jean & I met up for dinner last night in a nice college town – one where the fashion of 60s Woodstock and Vineyard Vines collide. The moms of the students in this college town take preppy to a whole new level, and let’s just say they don’t hold their cards very well – giving you a look up and down seems to be their trademark greeting, and almost everyone not dressed like them got one last night. And with my Choos, you can only imagine I got plenty of that trademark greeting last night. There were at least 8 women wearing headbands, short-sleeved Polos with popped collars, sweaters draped over their shoulders with the sleeves rolled together in front, khaki shorts, and loafers – it’s the ‘I’m Better Than You’ uniform for preppy moms – who looked me up and down, landing on my statement Choos, and then going back up my outfit with a shitty smirk.
I just wanted to say to them all, “OK Stepford Wives, don’t take your uniform frustrations out on my Choos. Get some real style, rip the pole out of your ass, and then I’ll give you a leg to stand on in this conversation.”
But, I held my cards far better than them, looked them square in the eyes when they gave me their trademark ‘greeting’, smiled brightly, and said, “Lovely night, how are you doing?” They just stared at me.
“You can never take too much care over the choice of your shoes. Too many women think that they are unimportant, but the real proof of an elegant woman is what is on her feet.’ – Christian Dior