While putting away some goodies from a recent thrift store run, I realized that my shoe “collection,” such as it is, has become slightly scary.
I’m just going to say it:
Oh, I’m scared. Everyone is going to judge me!
OK, deep breath, here we go:
I own forty-three pairs of shoes.
Let’s just let that marinate for a few seconds.
FORTY-THREE!!!
Actually, I own forty-five: my gardening shoes are outside somewhere, and my favorite kitchen clogs are at the kitchen.
Google tells me that the average American woman owns 19 (though in other places it says 30, so who knows), and wears about 4. In my defense, I really wear a lot of my shoes all the time—maybe about half.
Of those:
TEN PAIRS!!!! are flip flops (made in China, bought new for about $6). I had absolutely no idea I had this many pairs of slippahs, and this realization has slightly terrified me. What happens is that I always leave mine in New York when I go to Hawaii, and…and and and I know these are insanely un p.c. shoes and I can’t justify owning any, much less ten pairs.
Apart from the ridiculous flip flops, only seven pairs were bought new. OK, I feel a little better.
Six pairs I’ve had over ten years. Still feeling better.
Eight pairs are thrifted leather. We’ve talked about this before, but I still feel funny about it.
Two pairs are 100% p.c. shoes made with eco-friendly materials in people- and planet-friendly ways. But since most of the rest are at least used, I am slightly assured that I’m not the most consumerist consumer I’ve ever met.
But: four pairs are are heels, even though I am a radical feminist of five feet eight inches who has never successfully worn heels for longer than 20 minutes.
Four pairs are Crocs that I bought in a phase I would rather forget (hypocrite!)—I still pretty much love these shoes, in truth.
Most terrifyingly, eight pairs I have never, ever worn.
Oh this is terrible. I never thought of myself as a “shoe person,” honest! Most of mine are sneakers! I can’t start thinking of myself a shoe lover at this advanced age, it would tear apart all that I know of myself. Maybe I don’t know myself that well, after all, though: for instance, I think of myself as a devoted Chucks-wearer, but my two measly pairs of Chucks have a serious layer of dust on them that proves me sorely wrong.
I’ve had that pair of vegan Doc Martin Mary Janes for about fifteen years though—pretty much every vegan I know had a similar pair at one point. These are pretty uncomfortable and not quite my style these days—if anyone wants them (size 9, in pretty good shape) and can pick them up from me locally, let me know.
Even worse than the tragic loss of my entire sense of self, my tidy clear-shoebox, bottom-of-the-closet organization system has completely broken down—those last 2 pairs were the absolute last straw—and I worry everyone will just have to stay on the floor like this forever.
Can someone please explain why this hairy-legged vegan owns a pair of 4″ Zara peeky-toe heels with a cutsey bow on the toe? The fact that they are my size and were $8 doesn’t seem to be enough of an explanation. Can you see the plastic tag still around one strap? Yep: never worn. Those leathery Steve Maddens were $2!!!!!!! but can I really go prancing around wearing leather heels with an ultra femmy bow on the side? I haven’t yet. I’ve never worn those vintage corduroy red wedges on the left, either, but I think I will someday soon–they look rad, don’t they? Kinda of Tilda-Swinton-in-Orlando-esque, no?
Oh, sigh.
that’s what she said