The Right Shoes

The Right Shoes

69 days to go. Oy. Every day seems to go by more quickly now. I get a little twinge of panic when I realize how close this wedding is. I think of what has to be done. Tonight will be Lindsay’s first fitting. Last night we picked up her veil and headpiece. It is just what she wanted at half the price of the one we originally had the deposit on. She even likes it better because it has more “bling” on the veil. The vision of my beautiful daughter as a bride is becoming clearer now, when I dare to imagine it. I see myself looking at her, but it’s hard to picture what I will look like. I do have my dress, it’s hanging in a white plastic bag in my closet. I didn’t make an appointment yet for my alterations because I hadn’t gone for shoes yet. Lindsay has two pair of shoes for her dress because she couldn’t make up her mind and fell in love with both. Shoes are a big deal for a woman. You have to find something attractive and comfortable at the same time. This is no small feat- pardon my pun.

The day that I picked up my dress, my friends, Barbara and Roselee, were with me. I tried it on for them and they enthusiastically approved. Afterwards we went to lunch. In the car, we started to talk about the right shoes for the dress- silver was the best, we all decided. I was sitting in the back seat and then the bickering began- Barbara and Roselee’s bickering; I just sat in the back and like a tennis match, my head went from Barbara to Roselee as they argued about the shoes I should wear.

The Tennis Match:

Barbara: “They should be stylish. High, silver, with straps.”

Roselee: “If they’re too high and they kill her feet, she’ll be miserable, trust me.”

Barbara: “Roselee, what do you want her to wear- “old lady” shoes? She has to look elegant.”

Roselee: “If her feet are hurting, she won’t look elegant. Comfort is more important. At Michelle’s wedding, I wore the most comfortable shoes. It was the best decision I made.”

Barbara: “You’re taller than Jeannie; she needs something to give her height. Believe me, it will add to the glamour of the dress AND it will make her legs look good.”

Roselee: “She has to walk around in them for a whole day, not to mention dance in them. If her shoes are hurting her, she’ll be sorry. It won’t matter how glamorous they look.”

And on and on it went. I didn’t say a word, even though they were talking about my feet and my shoes. I think they even forgot I was there. I decided, to myself, while they were squabbling, I would go on my own for a pair of shoes. However, I kept procrastinating. A dozen or so coupons came for the discount shoe stores- DSW, MJM; they all expired. I was “dragging my feet”-pardon my pun, again. But, in my defense, I have a problem with shoes. I buy the wrong shoes much too often. I couldn’t even count how many pairs of shoes are in my closet. Many of them go unworn- because in the shoe store they seem perfectly comfortable, then when I wear them for one day, I either get blisters or I become somewhat crippled. I don’t have a good track record for shoes, in spite of the fact that I have a lot of them. I also have bad feet. Hammer toes. I probably need surgery. But every time I considered having the surgery, I had an occasion coming up. The thought of wearing one of those grotesque boots on one foot and a flat shoe on the other did not appeal to me or my vanity, so I opted to suffer the pain.

In the ‘70s, I used to wear those huge platform shoes. It gave me the opportunity to be 4-5 inches taller than my original 5 feet. Once I learned how to walk in those shoes I was happy to have a taller image, except of course, when the taller girls would wear the same platform shoes and it all would be relative and spoil my illusion. My dad, peeking out from the newspaper he was always reading, used to shake his head and say, “The men who invented those shoes must hate women.” I would just shrug off his comments and click my tongue at him. “You’re going to kill yourself in those shoes!” he would yell. I did break my foot once from a pair of shoes, but those were my Aerosoles and they were low heeled and practical. My foot just turned in a hole in a parking lot; I could hear the crack in my fourth metatarsal of my left foot. Six miserable weeks in a cast only confirmed my decision not to go for foot surgery and have to schlep one of those boots around while I healed. The whole broken foot experience has always left me a little bit shoe-shy, nonetheless, because if I could break my foot in a sensible pair of shoes, who knows what can happen in a high pair of “lady-hater” shoes?

My best shopping is always done when I least expect it. Take my puppy for example; I had no intention of buying him. We were in the Delco Plaza shopping center by my house, intending to go to the pizza store. We took a short detour to the pet store and four hours later there I was carrying Sonny out to the car. We never did get to have pizza that day. This past Thursday, my 32^nd wedding anniversary, I went to Delco Plaza. My intention was to go to the card store to buy Mark a card. This time my detour was Shoes, Etc., a little boutique that has a great selection of shoes, clothes, bags and costume jewelry. I’ve bought a lot in that store, so I decided to check it out to see if my shoes for my dress would be in there. Immediately, when I walked in, the owner asked me if I was looking for anything special. “As a matter of fact, I’m looking for a silver pair of shoes to wear to my daughter’s wedding.” Remembering, the exchange between Barbara and Roselee, I added, “They need to be stylish and comfortable at the same time.” “Okay,” the owner said, “I have the perfect pair for you.” And after disappearing in the back of the store, he came out with a box and took out these sparkly silver gorgeous pair of platform heals. There were rhinestones everywhere, even on the three-inch heel. “They’re lovely,” I said, “but will they be comfortable?” “These are the most comfortable shoes, I promise you,” he replied. “I’m a little suspicious about men who tell me high heels are comfortable,” I told him. “My father warned me about them,” I added. “I promise you. Try them on.” I sat down. He removed all the tissue packing and put the shoe on my foot and even buckled the strap. This was unusual.

The several last pairs of shoes I bought were in either DSW or MJM- a warehouse for shoes, they call it. And that’s the way it feels. You walk in and there are countless aisles of shoes that make you dizzy and lightheaded. You have to walk down all these aisles in search of a shoe and then find your size. Usually there are at least ten other shoeboxes piled on top of the shoebox with your size on it, if there is a shoebox with your size on it. Of course you have to put the shoe on yourself once you find a place to sit and then find a mirror to check out how they look. Then you have to take the shoes with you, if you are considering them, as your search continues down all the other dozens of aisles. Naturally I am the klutz who can’t manage carrying the shoeboxes gracefully in my quest. I’m dropping the box or the lid to the box. One of the shoes goes rolling down an aisle. I look like a world-class idiot. That’s when one of the 15 year-old people who work in the store comes over to offer me one of those netted bags to carry the shoeboxes in. Then I really feel like an idiot. But they never offer to find me my size or buckle my shoe for me. Ever. That’s why I have been putting off shoe shopping and that’s why Shoes, Etc. should be the only place to buy my shoes from now on. A shoe store should make you feel like Cinderella. Not only did the owner of Shoes, Etc. buckle both my shoes, he even got another size for me to try on and buckled both of those, too. And he got me a cushioned insert when I told him the ball of my feet hurt a little. But what really “swept me off my feet” was when he said, “A beautiful woman like you needs a pair of shoes as beautiful as this.” He happened to be right about them being comfortable because the platform balanced out the high heal. Just in case, though, he told me to take the shoes home and wear them around the house for a week to make sure they’re comfortable. He would take them back and return my money if I’m not happy.

So I found my shoes on my 32^nd wedding anniversary. It was also the day that there was speculation that a possible tornado touched down on Great Neck, Long Island, where Mark works. I will always remember this because Mark kept calling me while I was in the shoe store to give me updates- this also reminded me to get him an anniversary card, the original reason I went to Delco Plaza in the first place.

I have been wearing my shoes about a half hour every day in the house, as recommended. Today I even danced in them while Sonny watched me curiously. The first day I felt a stab of pain in my right pinky toe, but today, there was no pain at all. I think I’m going to keep them. 69 days and one step closer….