Putting it All Together: Learn from My Shoe Mistake

Two years ago for my birthday my husband bought me the MOST fantastic pair of Gucci evening shoes. I loved them and had never owned anything like them. It was a very Carrie Bradshaw purchase.

They are so stunning and absolutely dripping with The Sexy, but an hour into them they are SO painful.

I don't care. I will suffer for these. Not for every day/run around shoes, but for these I will bleed if I have to.

www.outsidevoice.net ( http://www.outsidevoice.net )
www.accessorywhore.com ( http://www.accessorywhore.com )

I bought the most amazing soft violet suede boots in Florence Italy. They have a small pointed heel and long pointed toes tipped in violet lizard skin. They are OMG gorgeous and always elicit comments. They are the most expensive shoe I've ever bought (thanks Euro) and I treat them like precious art.

Well, over time the zipper has buckled inward and pushes on my ankle. The boots still look great and are comfortable except for the zipper pushing in on my ankle bone. I'm just sure I figure out some way to stop this, but for now, these little treasures sit in my closet.

Changing back to the topic of flats, I too am a flats fanatic and have many crazy colored shoes that I wear without regard to the color scheme of my outfit. Patients see my shoes first when I walk into the exam room and it's become fun to keep folks entertained. I use Birkenstock arch supports to make them comfortable. I've been surprised how my Birks have even allowed me to wear otherwise narrow shoes comfortably by supporting my arch and changing the shape of my foot. Worth a try.
Cynthia Bailey MD
http://www.otbskincare.com/blog/

Which is a horrible strategy. I go in looking for something, and while I'm testing the shoes, find other shoes I want to buy. Only these I don't try on, or don't feel as compelled to try on as the first pair, so I let little things go.

Me: "This suede has a spot on it."
Salesperson: "You can rub that out once you get home."
Me: "Oh, OK."

Me: These feel tight in the toebox."
Salesperson: Those will TOTALLY stretch.
Me: I was hoping you'd say that.

I now wear the same five pairs of shoes. I own more. On occasion, I'll feel guilty and masochistic and will just wear one of my uncomfortable pairs. For every pair of shoes like these there's a number in my head of how many times I must endure a day in them before I can let them go. People will say to me, "Those new?" And I'll say, "not exactly." That's code for--these were a mistake that I'm punishing myself for.

Jory Des Jardins
writes on business and career topics at BlogHer, and on her personal blog From Here to Autonomy ( http://www.jorydesjardins.com )

Susan-

I truly feel your pain. Actually, I very recently wrote a post on the topic of faulty footwear upon learning that clogs were back in style! No way, I say.

"Do Not Go Gentle into That Bad Clogosphere"

http://flatrockcreeknotebook.com/2010/04/18/do-not... ( http://flatrockcreeknotebook.com/2010/04/18/do-not... )

Oh, and you'll never believe this, but speaking of styles coming back: I had a pair of turquoise flats 20 years ago (Liz Claiborne? Ralph Lauren?) that emphasized the very essence of flat as in they had no cushion whatsoever and barely even a paper thin heel attached. But they were awesome and I loved them and I wore them out despite the fact my feet ached if I wore them all day. Good for you for giving custody of the offending shoes to a friend!

Mary

Flat Rock Creek Notebook: Memoirs of the Here and Now

http://flatrockcreeknotebook.com ( http://flatrockcreeknotebook.com/ )

So I recently bought a pair of shoes online from Lands' End because 1) they were $10; 2) they were Mary Janes; 3) they were purple; and 4) did I mention they were $10? When they arrived, I was disappointed to find they were a little tight. "So much for that," I said and brought them to work to see if any of my colleagues might be able to wear them. No one claimed them. (Maybe it was the grape-y color?) They sat under my desk because it was not worth spending $7+ on postage and a box to return $10 shoes.

Then one day, I wore a slightly uncomfortable $15 pair of blue plaid flats with cute little belt-y details to work. I can wear them as long as I walk less than a mile, and it looked like it might rain that day, so I figured I'd be on the subway. But the weather cleared up and I decided to walk 3 miles home from work. I knew the flats would cut me up, so I figured I could alternate my injuries by starting with the tight Mary Janes then switching part way through to the flats.

Surprise, surprise! The Mary Janes stretched and were super comfy. I've worn them a few times since and love 'em. I guess you never know.

Suzanne also blogs at Campaign for Unshaved Snatch (CUSS) & Other Rants ( http://cussandotherrants.com ) and is the author of Off the Beaten (Subway) Track ( http://offthebeatensubwaytrack.com ).

My husband and I were going to to a wine tasting event and I wanted to wear my new pair of ballet flats. It turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes ever. I had to walk three blocks in those stupid (but cute) shoes. By the time I got to the event my heels were bleeding and I had to use every single Band Aid I could find in my purse to make even standing in the stupid (but cute) shoes even slightly tolerable.

They now sit in a box in my closet. I'm not sure I'm brave enough to wear them again.

Kimberly writes at Outside My Head ( http://outsidemyhead.com/ ) and That's My Answer ( http://thatsmyanswer.com/ ).

If they pinch or poke in the store I leave them there. However I have not gotten around to getting rid of the shoes in my closet that poke, pinch, cause blisters or make me bleed. I'm working on it...kinda.

I do remember buying a new pair of shoes and getting the worst blisters ever the first time I wore them. But oddly, that was the one and only time they ever did that. Once my blisters went away I wore them all the time.

Contributing Editor Sassymonkey also blogs at Sassymonkey ( http://sassymonkey.ca ) and Sassymonkey Reads ( http://sassymonkeyreads.ca ).

My cute coral shoes, that go perfect with my giraffe print dress sits in a basket ready to be sold at a garage sale. They gave me blisters and sores- I had to leave a wedding to get slippers once.
I love them they just don't love me.

~Susan

The Somethyme Writer ( http://somethymewriter.blogspot.com/ )

I just gave a pair of platforms to Goodwill yesterday. They were gorgeous but impossible to walk on. I agonized over this decision for weeks, but it had to be done.

--

Kelly

Always insisting on the best women jeans ( http://womensjeansonline.blogspot.com/ ) and on comfortable women's shoes ( http://womensshoesblogs.blogspot.com/ )!

When my mother was a child, her family was too poor to afford shoes. In the summer, all three kids would run around in the fields with bare feet. They had shoes for school, but mostly didn't worry about it. When my Grandmother did buy shoes because one of the three had outgrown theirs, she would hide them for a while in the closet. When finally she pulled them out for her kid to wear, my Grandfather would ask where the shoes had come from, knowing full well they couldn't afford a new pair of shoes. She would always answer with what she thought was the most honest answer she could give him safely.

"Oh, we've had these for a while now," though she failed to mention that they had remained in a box, in the closet, under a pile of blankets and photographs.

Shoes have been a valuable asset since their invention. The oldest found were from about 10,000 years ago, but were probably worn long before that. They were first evolved to protect the many tiny bones in the human foot, which has more bones in it than any other part of the body. It's progression eventually brought varied examples of shoes for different terrains and climates. Until the past few decades, shoes were NOT worn by most of the world, though. Shoes were always expensive, as they were for my Grandmother when my Mom was a child. With mass production, the prices dropped and more areas around the world could finally afford shoes. Still, many people nomadic and otherwise, still do not wear shoes.

What is the first thing most people do when they come home from work at night? For me, it's the removal of my shoes. My toes have been cramped up all day and they want to curl and twist, gliding over the carpet, cracking gently at the bends. They stretch and strain, glad to be free of the confined spaces and slide as easily as silk as I guide them over the coffee table before me. But the shoes I wear every day are not my favorite shoes. The ones I'm wearing would have to be my favorites.

Often I find that my "most favorite" of a select item isn't one that I've recently purchased or found or discovered, but the one with the most history. It's that way with T-shirts and that comfy pair of jeans that always fits just right. It's that way with a watch I know I can depend on, a piece of jewelry I can always find, a picture I keep in my wallet that someone wrote their name on. It's that way with shoes too.

My favorites are not a pair of sleek black heels, though I have two pairs I like very much. They're not sneakers or jogging shoes. They're not boots made of suede, or red pumps, or even open toed sling backs. They're not clogs or flip flops, they're not sandals or heels or loafers.

My most favorite shoes are a pair of shearling sheep skin moccasins with a large tear in the left, a big spot of bright blue paint dried on the right. They're dirty and old, and the rubber bottoms are all but falling off. I take these shoes on an airplane with me and change into them when the plane takes off, usually with a couple of odd looks in my direction by the person closest to me. They're also very warm and cozy, but NONE of those are the reason I love these shoes so much. And yet - all of them are.

In 2005 I sat on a window sill in Redondo Beach, watching the dolphins playing in the surf. My legs straddled the window sill. One of my brand new slippers fell off of a foot and landed on the stairs below. I got down from my perch, wandered to the door, and went to fetch my shoe. What resulted was an hour conversation with a neighbor I hadn't seen in a long time, starting out by him asking me why I was coming down the stairs without a shoe.

In 2006 I sat in my bedroom in Gardena on the Skype service, talking to someone more than 5,000 miles away. Though the person I was talking to had no idea, I was completely naked except the tan fuzzy slippers I so dearly loved. They kept my feet warm when everything around me was cold, dark and lonely. In that way, the slippers reminded me of the voice on the other end of the Skype service. That voice made me feel warm when nothing else could.

In 2007 my slippers were lost in a box during a move. I couldn't find them for months, and when I finally did I nearly wept for joy. I had been ruining all of my socks, running around on wooden floors with no shoes on! Not to mention, the cat was still a baby and loved to attack anything that moved. The leather slippers would be much harder to get through with those needle teeth. Somehow he still managed to get his teeth into one and tear a hole in the left foot, though.

In 2008 I painted my kitchen cabinets a beautiful bright blue color. My cat, then a year older, got into the paint and tracked it all over the house. I hollered and yelled, raising quite a fuss of screaming and scaring the poor bugger. He took off into my bedroom, little blue paw prints trailing behind him. When I discovered his hiding place, he had shoved his head into the toe of my slipper like an Ostrich hiding his head in the sand. There was that one little blue paw of his resting on the side of my right slipper. At first I was upset, but then I laughed. For as long as I kept the magical slippers, there would be an existing memory of my silly cat with his nose hiding in a shoe. As I reached down to pick him up, the shoe lifted into the air with his body. He started flailing about, slinging droplets of blue paint around in the closet, all over my high heels, all over me... His head was stuck! When I got the shoe off of his head, he curled up in my arms for the first time in months and didn't move for an hour. I was his savior.

In July of 2009 when my uhaul was u-haul-ed away by total strangers in the middle of the night, I was sleeping in a hotel room in my slippers and trackies (sweats) warm and comfortable, safe and sound with my little cat in my arms. I didn't realize then that they would be one of the only things in the world I would own the next morning other than my memories. But, there I was at that precise moment in time, wearing my slippers.

Here it is 2010, and I'm wearing the same shoes that fell in Redondo, that warmed me in Gardena, got painted in San Pedro, were cat-attacked, and kept me safe in Vegas. When I looked down at my shoes tonight only moments ago, I thought to myself "If only my shoes could talk"... They would tell much better stories than I could ever begin to imagine.

ladyblackwood.blogspot.com

When I was working in an office and wore heels more often, I could wear heels out for a night of dinner and dancing and walking to the car, and it wasn't a huge deal. After all, I spent 8 hours in them. But, now that I only wear heels for special occasions, they've become absolutely MISERABLE -- even the same exact shoes! And it breaks my heart because I really, really love a beautiful high heel. And I still wear them for special events, horrid pain be damned.

I find that if I wear uncomfortable heels (especially my yellow patent leather 4" BCBG peep toes) at the same time as a strapless bra, the pain is spread out so much that neither bothers me quite as much.

Kristen

www.jeez-o-petes.com ( http://www.jeez-o-petes.com )

When I was seven or eight, my grandmother, mother and I were watching a documentary on Marilyn Monroe. My grandmother said, "high heels make the biggest feet tiny like hers."

I have huge feet. Naturally, I became obsessed with having tiny feet. I started wearing heels as soon as my mother gave up trying to dissuade me.

I was thirteen. It didn't matter that it hurt. It looked good. By nineteen, I didn't own any flats. Even my hiking boots and cross-trainers had at least a four-inch heel. My flip-flops were my lowest shoe, with a one-inch kitten heel. I occasionally still felt pain, but years of conditioning had taught me to ignore my feet well.

At twenty-three, a woman at Neiman Marcus helping me with shoes inquired if I was a ballerina -- that's how ugly my feet look.

At twenty-seven, I had my soles injected with Restylane because I'd worn off the padding in my soles.

You'd think I'd be less endeared to my stilettos.

Not a chance.

I have, however, become really fond of stripper shoes. Their insoles are built with the same care and precision as Nikes. They know there's going to be a lot of movement involved in your day (or night, rather), so they build shoes for motion. I think women's shoe designers should have a few strippers as consultants, I really do. They know what's what. And when it comes to heels over four inches (I have a pair as high as 12 inches!), you need to know what's what.

AV Flox is the editor of Sex and the 405 -- what your newspaper would look like if it had a sex section.

http://400caloriesorless.com

I have suffered due to vanity oh so many times because I am a verified shoe-a-holic - lol

Beautiful winter white 4 inch pumps - peep toes - cut out arch for a very sexy look - - 20 minutes in and I can't feel my toes. They don't feel wrong when you first put them on - nothing pinches, nothing hurts. But 20 minutes in, I don't have feeling in my toes. So an hour in I take them off fearing I will totally lose circulation and lose the toes. Yet...I try them again and again wishing for ???

hehehehe

I don't deal with discomfort in shoes anymore. I can't. I also don't wear heels because of a weak, previously broken ankle that laughs when I even think about wearing heels. It's as if it plans the exact moment of most embarrassment to turn. Oh, ankle.

My most uncomfortable pair of shoes ever are a pair of skimmer flats that I bought a half size too big because they were on sale! And really cute! Casual but not dumpy. A nice white and green, the latter being my favorite color.

HUGE BLISTERS. Every time. Socks, no socks. BLISTERS.

It took me a year before I gave them up. I actually passed up buying a REALLY cute pair of shoes recently because they didn't have the right size and I didn't want Blisters of Doom again.

Jenna Hatfield (@FireMom ( http://twitter.com/FireMom )), from Stop, Drop and Blog ( http://stopdropandblog.com ) and The Chronicles of Munchkin Land ( http://thechroniclesofmunchkinland.com ), is a freelance writer and newspaper photographer.