“A shoe is not only a design, but it’s a part of your body language, the way you walk. The way you’re going to move is quite dictated by your shoes.” — Christian Louboutin
Recently, I’ve been on an organizing kick around my house. It started with my closet. I was just going to sort out a few shelves. Five hours later, I had a dozen bags of clothes I would never wear again. I was able to rehome them with the lovely people at Lifebridge. In the back of my newly organized closet were four large storage bins chock full of shoes. Also, it turns out the dust bunnies under my bed were hiding a treasure trove of forgotten footwear.
The rest of my house got a major cleanout when I decided to host a party for no real reason. The shoe basket near the doorway had a few pairs kicking around, and then I realized that there were two pairs of sandals and several flip-flops under the couch. By the time every pair had been sorted, boxed, and stored carefully, the count was 123 pairs. Yes, at present, I own 123 pairs of shoes.
Is that a problem?
I don’t say it to brag because it doesn’t make me a hero; it makes me seem like a hoarder or someone who should not be trusted with a credit card and DSW coupons. People I know are incredulous that someone could have that many pairs of shoes, and well, I’m not entirely sure how it happened either. In my defense, I threw away five pairs of shoes, so that’s part of how the number got to 123. Also, there are five pairs of slippers in that number, so if we don’t count those, it’s not that bad, right?
Do I need all those shoes? Of course not; this is not about need. We all have “collections” that we don’t really need but like to keep around. No one says to someone who collects stamps or coins, “Oh my goodness, how did that happen?” No one who collects stamps and coins is mailing letters or buying coffee— at least I wear my collection.
There are a lot of advantages to shoes beyond just keeping your piggies warm and protected. No matter what pair you choose, there are no shoes that will make your butt look fat. If you have big feet and wear a large shoe, no one shames you for that; in fact, I can truthfully say that I am the same size as Princess Diana. Not in jeans or dresses, of course, but in shoes, we are the same. If you are short, you can change your height by picking a pair of wedges instead of flats. No cute jacket or statement necklace can do that.
Shoes make me happy; that’s not weird, is it? I can slip on a pair of red flats that make me feel young and fun in a way a pair of Hokas just can’t. When I wear strappy black heels with a velvet and sequin toe buckle, even if it’s just out to dinner, there’s a spring in my step, and at least for a few hours, I’m fabulous. For someone with my balance issues, it’s surprising but true that I have never biffed it in heels; the worst fall I ever took, I was wearing flat-soled sneakers.
I don’t know how the stereotype of women and shoes began, but there is some truth to it. Shoes are important to women, and the numbers back it up. Market research (https://runrepeat.com/womens-shoe-statistics) shows that, globally, women are spending $128 billion on shoes every year without even including sneakers and other athletic footwear. The same research shows that 50% of the shoes an average woman buys are not out of need but rather just a desire to buy a new pair. Finally, 19% of women (and I fall firmly in this category) have purchased shoes just to satisfy their happiness.
Do I have a shoe problem? Not yet, but I probably shouldn’t buy any more pairs for a while. Now, that pair of vintage Frye boots I just picked up? Here’s a little shoe math I learned: boots don’t count. Boots are not shoes; they’re boots. I’m going with it.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.