Nothing makes me feel as good as buying a pair of shoes.  I come by this naturally, because my mother was the Imelda Marcos of NJ.  When she died, she had over 40 pairs that had to be rehomed. .  I got the shoe gene.  I’m sure there must be a DNA marker for the shoe gene.

Shopping for shoes is the ultimate pick-me-up. Shoes always fit..  None of that trying on clothes when you are down and feeling  like every pair of pants you try on makes your butt seem like the broad side of a barn (Kim Kardashian not withstanding).  So the other day after a rather discouraging appointment, I headed off to buy some shoes  and try to feel better.

I headed to the closest  department store and hurried to the shoe department.  Cruised the tables and the shelves.  Michael, Vince, Calvin, Sam… but nothing.  Heels too high, too flat, styles that looked too much like things I already own.  I am too short to wear gladiators, ankle straps make my ankles look big.  Too dressy, too casual, and too uncomfortable.  Meanwhile the salesman, who works on commission, was stalking me.  He watched me closely as I moved around the shoe department picking up and discarding shoe after shoe.  I’m sure he was thinking “dilettante shopper” but he still followed me around. He has stalked me before.  When I asked him why, he said he could tell I was going to buy a pair of shoes by the desperation on my face  and the way I fondled the shoes.

After several round around the department, I gave up. I have always know that if you pass the same display twice in one shopping trip without seeing anything, it’s hopeless.  Even the stalking salesman had given up on me. I dejectedly headed to the car. In an act of desperation,  I drove over to DSW, the shoe warehouse.  I don’t love DSW and I rarely find anything I want there, which I know sounds crazy.  First I hit the clearance rack (doesn’t everyone?)  Nothing there.  So I started up and down the aisles, slowly at first, but gaining speed as I hit the end of the first aisle.  Nothing. Aisle after aisle, searching.  Salespeople, wishing to be helpful, and perhaps noticing my desperation, asked me if there was anything I was specifically looking for. I wandered the aisle of flip flops to no avail.  Then I moved on to the sandals.  Too much heel, not enough heel, too high a wedge, not enough wedge. I think I was looking for a pair that might have some color, but everything was tan, brown or black.  And there was no point at looking at the dress shoes, since I don’t generally dress up.  I was beginning to get anxious.  Should I leave or take a Xanx? I tried on a pair of Ann Kleins, to no avail..  I checked all the ends of the aisles. NOTHING.  It was time to go.

I slunk out of the store and sat my car for a few minutes.  Was something wrong with me?  How could I feel better without a new pair of shoes?  Maybe I’m really ill.  Yes, that must be it, because there hasn’t been a day in recent memory that I couldn’t find a pair of shoes and often more than one.  And that depressed me. I could have hit every store in the shopping center, but I knew in my heart that it was no use.  I was beyond help.  Another thing to discuss with my therapist.

That was 4 days ago, and I have been feeling a bit adrift. Fast forward to this morning.  I casually wandered the internet and found myself on Zappos, the instant gratification website.  I once bought a pair of shoes from there on Monday afternoon and I had them by noon on Tuesday. How do they do that???? Anyway, I was randomly looking at styles by Michael, Vince, Calvin and Sam.  Nothing.  I was starting to break into a sweat.  Finally I looked at Yellow Box and found two pair of platform sandals that were only mildly close to what I already have and I bought them.  As soon as I hit the place order button, I felt great.  I was back!!

-Until next time, Elsie


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s