SHOE-IN
By Karen Cyson

I was recently asked, “What is it with women and shoes?” The speaker, obviously, was male. I pondered the question for a bit, but couldn’t come up with an answer because I don’t have a “thing” with shoes. Oh. I have shoes. And boots. And sandals. But I don’t have an excess. I have just what I need to get by. I’ve never shopped for shoes for sport or entertainment or revenge. I’ve never bought a pair of shoes without a specific purpose or event in mind. But I thought about the question, and decided that if I did a little inventory the answer might become evident.

Herewith is my shoe wardrobe, just the essentials:

Back porch:

Bike shoes, because the toe clips hurt if I wear sandals or go barefoot and my tennies don’t fit in the clips.

Old wood-soled Dr. Scholl’s sandals, three pair (brown, navy, white) because they don’t make them anymore.

New rubber-bottomed Dr. Scholl’s sandals, three pair (bright blue, beige, white) for when the wooden ones wear out.

Flip-flops, for pool or beach, two pair, one for each bathing suit I’m likely to wear, and one pair absolutely silly with large silk flower decoration.

Garden shoes, to keep the mud off my feet, one pair slip-ons for weeding and grass mowing, one pair loafer style for when I’m really mucking about.

Clogs, felt, two pair, one expensive, one cheap, selection worn based on weather.

Walking shoes, two pair, one new, one broken in, worn alternate days for morning walk.

Waterproof duck shoes, for when the above two pair (individually, not together!) are not enough protection from the elements.

Coat closet:

Sorels. This is Minnesota; further explanation unnecessary.

Medium-weight fleece-lined boots, for when it isn’t -40 F.

Black dress boots, because neither of the above should be worn anywhere near the Ordway.

Lined hiking boots.

Unlined hiking boots.

Bedroom closet (1):

Pumps: black, brown, navy, white beige; to cover any social obligation requiring a dress and pantyhose.

Pumps: bright blue, worn once to HS boyfriend’s wedding where I looked absolutely fabulous and, though I will probably never wear them again, qualify as my one pair of tah-DA! shoes.

Mid-heel dress shoes, for social obligations where I can get away with wearing pants: one pair each, black, brown, navy.

Slip-ons: black moccasins, brown clogs, white leather.

Cowgirl boots: one pair, red.

Minnetonka moccasins: one pair, pink with rhinestones, because why would anyone buy the deerskin ones with the thunderbird bead decoration when these are available?

“Barbie” shoes: six pair, open-toed slip-ons with those tiny 3’ heels, one pair each pink, cactus, brown, black, white, navy. Dresses up any summer outfit.

Bedroom closet (2):

Slippers: one pair red velvet for winter robe, one pair ivory satin for summer robe, one pair basket-weave palm for wearing with kimono, one pair sensible blue velour with rubber sole for fetching newspapers in the morning, one pair pale pink fluffy slippers the size of a medium raccoon (gift from daycare dolly) (never worn) (but must be kept and loudly praised).

So there it is: 46 pair of footgear of one form or another. Not one pair without a purpose. Nothing extra. Just the basics; the essential shoe wardrobe.  What is it with women and shoes? I have no idea. I only have the minimum number I need to get by. You’ll have to ask a woman with an excessive shoe wardrobe to get the definitive answer.  I’m not even “into” shoes. Most of the time I go barefoot.

 

P.S. Oh! My! Gosh! I just found four more pair of shoes!

1 pair black tap shoes, Cuban heels

2 pair ballet shoes, one white, one black

1 pair lyric ballet shoes, doeskin