shoe rant

A friend of mine sent me the following e-mail. After reading it I was reminded of the relationship between women and shoes. Here is her story:

"Ok, I need someone to complain to.

I found the perfect shoes a few months ago. You might not think that they exist, but they do. At least for me. I have this magnificent pair of Kate Spade shoes. I used to visit them at Nordstrom until one day I tried them on and the day I did that turned out to be the start of their sale and they were half off. And that's where it all started. These however are not the perfect shoes. They are ALMOST perfect. They are sandals. Strappy, ankle wrap, calfskin, black, comfy, tall, cute cut out design. They are wonderful. The only way they would be perfect is if they were pumps. Then I could wear them everyday, everywhere. Dresses, pants, to work, jeans, summer, winter, fall, and spring.

So I have this image in my mind. Maybe a year after I buy these shoes I see a woman in the pumps I have imagined. With a nice pencil skirt. I actually tried to follow her to ask her where she got the shoes. But she was too far away. That night I set out to find out if Kate Spade had indeed made a pump out of these shoes. And if anyone had them and wanted to sell them. The answer is no.

Last month I found them. They obviously aren't the same pair. They were on Gilt. Simply entitled "High Heel Mary Jane" by L'Autre Chose, Pre-Fall 2009. They weren't even sold out. The bastards however had two sizes, a 6 and a 9.5. The price was even reasonable. But I am a 8.5-9. They would not fit well. I should have bought them anyway.

It is just so sad. I have dreams of confidentially walking down the street in these shoes. Men looking at me, women being envious of my flawless figure and amazing taste. And I know that they exist. These shoes are no longer just in my mind as an ideal I made up, but I saw them for sale. And I can't find them again. They are NOWHERE. How is that? So I want to tell you that there is something worse than not finding the perfect shoes ever. Finding them in a size that is not yours. Because you will dream of them. They will haunt you. You might even clean out a space in your shoe collection reserved just for them when you can finally claim them as your own. But they will never end up there, no. By Murphy's law we cannot have the shoes. I want them so badly. I envision having talks with people who have scorned me in these shoes, and my legs look amazing, and I am just indestructible. I make them bend to my will. Those who have scorned me in the past now look to their current person and think "You are nowhere near as hot, what was I thinking." Even gay men think I am pretty in these shoes. But I have never worn them, I have only dreamed of them. And my almost perfect shoes cannot be worn during the holidays when I am most sad and in most need of feeling fabulous.

I need year long clothing that I can wear and just feel spectacular in. I need to go on "What Not to Wear" and have them make me feel fabulous. Because I know it's not the shoes anymore. It's the delusional thought that shoes could actually make me a better person. And if I did get the shoes, what if I never took them off for fear of the feeling that I was inadequate without them?!? And I don't even LIKE wearing shoes. I drive barefoot. But in my dreams I am wearing them being awesome, and I want them. I can't have them and it makes me frustrated."

t~bird:

When I was a little girl and got a new pair of shoes it was such a thrill. I remember wearing one pair in particular to sleep. I only had one pair at a time and when I wanted a new pair I would ruin the ones I was currently wearing, scuff them up and trash them so I could go shoe shopping. It was in my blood at an early age. I'm older now and it never goes away. I was born a fashionista.

JQ. Laurent:
I bought a pair of shoes during the Super Bowl. I was actually watching the Super Bowl this year (and was hoping the Saints would win!) but I dropped a friend off at home in the middle of the game a stopped in a store near her house to buy a pair of shoes that I had been lusting after. I got home, finished the game, felt good about the Saints' win and my magical shoes.

I spend a long time browsing stores and the internet for the right shoe. It not only has to be cute but it has to say something profoundly me. Shoes are by far my favorite accessory. A male friend of mine once caught me staring at a pair of shoes in a club. His response was a surprised “are you checking out her shoes?!” Guilty. I have shoe envy. And shoe desire. A lesson well-learned is to never buy a pair of shoes unless you feel that you will be really satisfied with the purchase.