.....for sandals, that is.
So I bought a new pair of Dansko sandals a few weeks ago. I've been wearing them around the house in hopes that they will be as comfortable as my Dansko clogs, which I wear every day, and to almost everything, with the exception of performances (and I usually keep them on until right before I go onstage anyway). This was not to be, unfortunately. I managed to wear holes in both pinky toes, while wearing socks AND moleskin, so today I sadly skulked back to the shoe store. Shopping for shoes has been an ordeal since I was a kid. Mom tells me how my first pair of baby shoes was a pair of sandals because I had huge feet and she couldn't stand to sandwich them into little shoes just for the sake of being cute. In some ways, I wish I had been subjected to foot-binding at a young age because it might have prevented some of the teasing, not to mention personal trauma, to which I was subjected since, oh, I entered the school system. Who's got big feet, glasses and reads for fun? Bigfoot, over there. Had I been more self-possessed in the third grade, I would have told them where I was gonna put my big foot if they didn't shut their fat mouth. I digress.
So I decide to go to this huge shoe store near my house. It's a Sunday afternoon, the hubby has work to do and the dog is sunning himself in front of the window, so I grab the car keys and take off. I have come to the conclusion that, unless you look a respectable age and are dressed as such, salespeople will invariably ignore you. I get ignored in stores with some frequency, except in Sephora, where everyone loves me and I love everyone. I tried three times to ask the salesman if they carried a certain brand and if this shoe (the one I'm waving right here in my hand? It's not just for show, I'd like to try it on please!!) is in stock in my size. I gave up after a while. I had tried on all of the Dansko sandals they had on the wall, everything was too narrow and with an arch that's not high enough (shame on you Dansko, I thought we were friends) and tremendously frustrated, I came home.
Home, to my old Birkenstocks that have seen better days and my $2.50 flip flops from Target.
I remember being about seven and asking my mom why I didn't have little feet, like Barbie. Her response is classic Miss Jean:
"Honey, if you had little feet like Barbie, you'd fall over!"
That's right. I would fall over. *sigh*
2 comments:
As a fellow big-footed traveler, I feel your pain. I spent several weeks trying to find a pair of sneakers that fit my big wide feet that didn't make me look like a wannabe baller, or an aging hipster. Finally found some shoes with a little dignity at the Metro Center mall.
Here's a little grass is greener for you- my feet look like a Chinese foot binding experiment gone way way bad. They look ok in shoes, but come on, have you seen my toes? Your toes are way cuter than my toes, I believe wholeheartedly. At least your feet look like feet...human feet.
Have you tried the rubber birkenstocks made out of volkswagen parts? I have a pair that were deemed sufficiently dressy for a law office.
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