Katy McDermott

My closet smells like feet. There is only one conclusion I can draw from this: I don’t have enough shoes to rotate them appropriately during these sweltering summer months. I must – must, do you hear? – go shoe shopping.

Most women would consider this a no-lose situation: shoe shopping as necessity. But I’ll admit, I was born without the shoe-shopping gene. It’s not that I don’t like to spend money – as my husband will woefully attest, I do. Just not on shoes.

Shoes are definitely a barometer of economic condition, though. Here in the Philadelphia suburbs, we associate going barefoot with two things: 1) summer vacation at the beach and 2) Revolutionary War soldiers shivering through a brutal, shoeless winter in what is now Valley Forge National Park.

I don’t know about you, but I didn’t give much thought to shoes until I needed to pay for them myself. Funny how things like rent, heat, the phone bill, and food take precedence over footwear when money’s tight. Back in the 1980s, I held on to one pair of light blue sneakers for well over 10 years. In addition to one pair of sandals, one pair of loafers, and one pair of pumps for special occasions, they comprised my entire shoe wardrobe. Things have changed. I have three pairs of pumps now, and my lone pair of sneakers is only about 7 years old.

I’ll probably need to replace those sneakers soon – but I don’t know if I’m technologically advanced enough to do so. Sneakers used to be just sneakers. Today, there are “athletic shoes” for almost every sport you can imagine: running shoes, walking shoes (totally different, of course), tennis shoes, basketball shoes, biking shoes, hiking shoes, workout shoes, and so on.  “Water shoes” to wear in the pool, ocean, or running on the beach. And something called “skate shoes” – I have no idea what these are, but I can only assume they’re for ’tweens, based on the predominant decorative elements of rhinestones, charms, and glitter.

Have you seen the features on “athletic shoes” lately, by the way? They have light-up soles and criss-cross gel inserts to enhance arch support and improve posture. Some of them even have a system of mysterious internal alchemy that actually tones your butt for you.

Guess I won’t need those “workout shoes” after all…

Truly, though, with their racing stripes, complex engineering, and streamlined design, modern sneakers look kind of like speedboats to me. And seem equally intimidating.

Perhaps I’ll wait on the sneakers (and on working out too, come to think of it) and start with sandals. It’s summer, after all.

Of course, sandals require a fair amount of foot maintenance to pull off. When it’s 20 degrees out and there are only 9 hours of light per day, you just hide your feet in thick socks, pull on boots, and hope you don’t get frostbite while you de-ice your car.

Sandals call for pedicures. Sloughing, buffing, polishing… Jeez, it’s like feet are classic cars!

But it’s June, so a pedicure it is…

To buy the shoes, I met my 22-year-old niece after work a few days ago at a nearby DSW. It’s a good thing I had her with me. Left to my own devices, I’d have gone straight for the sturdy, serviceable, crepe-soled, low-heeled, black loafers in the “Nun Shoes” section.

I hadn’t been shoe shopping in quite a while, needless to say, and I felt like the epitome of a Country Mouse as I walked, goggle-eyed, up and down aisle after aisle.

Here’s a snippet of my internal monologue:

“Could never wear those… wow, those are some high heels… are those made of Lucite???… how would I walk in those ones?… 6-inch stilettos? Don’t think so… how am I ever going to find shoes here? I can’t see a single pair I’d actually wear to work… Holy Mother of God – look at THOSE!”

Like I said, I’m missing a gene.

However, in the face of my niece’s rolling eyes and disapproving stares, I’m now in possession of 2 pairs of brand new shoes she deemed “hip.” (God help me.) One is a pair of pewter wedge sandals with 3½-inch heels on which I’ve already gotten comments. The other simply defies description. All I can say is that she told me I wasn’t allowed to leave the store without buying them, so I bought them. I haven’t tried to wear them yet…

I did, however, get a pair of serviceable, black, crepe-soled loafers as well. Gotta be me, after all…