Why I Hate Shopping, Part 1: Shoes

To preface this whole thing, I must say that I've been studying the history and psychology of clothing for the last 20 years, and I have a significant amount of training as an image consultant through the Conselle Institute of Image Management. I have been a student member of the Association of Image Consultants International and my award-winning senior thesis was about how the last 200 years of women's fashion, along with biological semiotics and evolution, have contributed to the current unrealistic feminine ideal we hold so dear. So, you see, I've analyzed in depth my preferences, personal style, best colors, proportions, figure variations, and wardrobe values. It's kind of shooting yourself in the foot to know so very much about one subject that you're unable to shop without being overly critical about everything.

I've decided to start from the bottom up, so logically, shoes are first. This is a series that will either make people laugh or shake their heads in dismay at finding out so much about me, but I think it must be blogged.

When I was a kid, my knees and ankles would bang together when I ran. My parents took me to a chiropractor when I was 8 to see what the problem was. I was subsequently diagnosed as having "flexible flat feet", which meant that if I wanted to correct the overpronation that made running miserable, I'd need custom orthotics. I wore them for a few years, and eventually my feet developed lovely high arches. I inherited my mother's high instep, narrow heel, and generally long foot, and since both my parents have long toes, I got the double-whammy. I kid you not, my second toe is almost as long as my pinkie finger.

When I was 14, I finally grew out of my mother's shoes. I wore a size 9 shoe in ninth grade, and I was only about 5' 4". I hated my feet. I felt like a clown when I looked at them in my white gym shoes. I eventually grew into them and they stopped growing when I was 19, which is when I finally hit my full height. Yes, I hit that awkward stage later than most of my friends, and ended up taller than most of my tall friends. At 19, and at 5' 9" (give or take), I wore a size 10 1/2 shoe.

I spent about 11 years working on my feet either in retail or waiting tables. I've lost a toenail, gained corns, dealt with aching arches and ankles from 10-hour shifts, and rubbed out cramps from standing on a cement floor in bad shoes. I will go for comfort over style if it comes down to it.

To consolidate the previous paragraphs: I have long feet, long toes, narrow heels, high arches, and high insteps, and I have spent enough time on my feet that I really enjoy comfort, but I can't abide clunky shoes. I really don't want to make my feet look bigger than they are. Try going into a shoe store and giving someone those specifics and have them just look at you for a few seconds before saying anything. I once had someone, when I told him what size I needed, look down at my feet as if to make sure I wasn't kidding. Someone else (poor man--he tried!) could think of nothing that matched my criteria that season: not clunky, preferably a monkstrap or a mary jane to cut the length, good arch support, an adjustable buckle for my instep, and something that wouldn't slip off my heel.

Don't get me wrong, I love shoes. I love high heels and boots and sandals and even, sometimes, athletic shoes. I know a lot about the history of shoes. I have seven nearly useless pairs of shoes in my closet that I bought because they were pretty or funky. They're not suitable for much, and one pair is my wedding shoes. I'm just not going to wear those or my shoes with gold heels and rhinestones to church or work.

I hate shoe shopping because, although my feet are proportioned and well-taken-care-of, if I find a pair of shoes that fits, they're either too expensive, too clunky (do NOT want to look like Frankenstein's monster, thank you!), or cheaply made. I can't exactly afford $300 for shoes that fit perfectly, will last forever, and are finely constructed. More often than not, I end up compromising because I can't wear my Dansko sandals all year, and my feet end up unhappy. The rare times I find something comfortable, the brand changes all its styles for the new season into something I'm just not comfortable in. I don't do the pointy- or extended-toe thing, for instance--my feet really don't need to be elongated.

I hate shoe shopping because I have couture taste and a Target budget. I'll fall in love with $500 shoes and then be sad that I can't find anything like them within my budget.

I hate shoe shopping because I can't find anything I like most of the time, unlike my jerk sisters (love you!) who have average feet and can usually find something no matter where they are. I can't just walk into a store and be confronted with cute shoes in my size.

I hate shoe shopping because I don't have wide feet (I'm glad I don't have wide feet) and it seems that as shoe sizes go up, so do widths.

I hate shoe shopping because sizing above, say, a 9, gets arbitrary. I can wear anything between a 9.5 and an 11 depending entirely on the brand and style. It would be so nice if I knew for sure that I could go anywhere and wear a 10. As it is, I've had to memorize exactly what size I am in different brands and styles. It's good that I can retain that information.

On the other hand, I love my feet. I really do. They're exactly right. I love it when I can find the perfect shoes. I love eBay and the Internet. I love Dansko, Merrell, Nine West, and Steve Madden for carrying lovely shoes I know for sure will fit. I love not having the exact same shoes as all my friends. I wouldn't ever trade a smaller foot size for a few inches less in height. I generally have a humorous, if not entirely good, attitude about shoe shopping, which keeps me from getting too scowly. I've learned not to fall in love with a shoe until I know I can find it in my size. I've worked through a lot of my issues about my feet, and I no longer feel like a clown when I look at them...unless I'm wearing the bright pink flats I wore in "Seussical: The Musical", but those make me feel like a happy clown because I loved that show so much.

It's all good, really. I don't have HUGE feet or crooked feet or diseased or crippled or ugly feet. It just takes me three times as long to find shoes I like...

Why I Hate Shopping

Yes, I am finally blogging about something that's been bouncing off the inside of my skull for the last year or so. Part of the inspiration for this is my ex-fiance, and part of it is several bouts of deep introspection in an effort to understand my neuroses.

More to come...