In My World

Number 1: SHOES

The first of a sporadic series of blogs dealing with things in the world that need fixing.

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I went shoe shopping yesterday. For me, it’s more demoralizing than shopping for jeans or swim suits. I just needed a simple pair of short black boots for the San Francisco Writers Conference—shouldn’t have been too hard.

Have you ever noticed how the shoe salespeople subtly (and not so subtly) glance at your shoes when you walk in? I like to be comfortable when I shop. So, I wear my stylish Asics running shoes. Yesterday, I could read the thought-bubble over the saleswoman’s head: “Oh dear God. No taste. No class. Maybe she’s just looking for slippers.”

In my world, everyone would leave their shoes in a cubby by the front door—including the salespeople. Everyone on equal footing, so to speak. No judgment, and no hassle taking off/putting on your street shoes every time you find something else to try on.

In my world, all the women’s shoes on display would be size 9. Then those of us on the larger side of the shoe-size-bell-curve could actually see what a shoe looks like in our size instead of setting ourselves up for embarrassment and disappointment.

“No, that’s not the shoe I wanted to try on, ” you declare, staring in disgust at the thing she lugs out of the box.  “It’s this one...” you add, holding up the display shoe—size 6. Same shoe. But in size 9, that cute little black boot looks like a deformed toaster.

“Oh...my mistake. Never mind,” you say quietly. 

If they displayed only size 9, no one would be disappointed. Every shoe on the way down to size 5 would increase in cuteness, right? Who doesn’t love a baby toaster? They’re so cute! We’re talking about one of the laws of nature:

Cuteness is inversely related to size. Size goes down—cuteness goes up. Thus, all you women with tiny feet would be nothing but pleasantly surprised when you open the box.  And we size 9-ers wouldn’t be red-faced as we retie our Asics, and leave the store. A win for all women!

I’ve been 5’9” (and shoe size 9) since 8th grade. This is not an older-woman problem. If my feet were a diminutive size 6, I’d surely fall over like a pine in a flower pot. Which brings me to my last point:

There must be a lot of us who need size 9 because stores are always out of size 9—even if they just got the shipment in on Thursday. In my world, they’d double the order of larger sizes. Yes, I know. The boxes are bigger and take up more storage space. Oh well, I can’t fix everything!