I almost bought this shoe, and its left counterpart, today at Target. Please buckle your seatbelts for the mental acrobatics that resulted in the inclusion of the word "almost" in the previous sentence. So, I have very rarely ever worn heels- yes, a few times to various high school dances, but once I turned eighteen I decided that foot health was cooler than kitten heels, and ever since then have been a fan of such practical footwear as Birkenstock sandals and Dansko clogs. Yes, I do have a pair of lavendar suede loafers, but even they have become bastions of respectability now that they are trimmed with blue Dr. Scholl's inserts.
It's spring now, and I'm not sure if our very rainy winter or our yet unrevealed plans for post-graduation have finally gotten to me, but I suddenly have had the urge to wear cute shoes. I spent a good half hour trying on a variety of sandals, including one pair that I nearly snapped in half when I stood up and promptly fell off its 2-inch heel. I settled on the above pair, mainly because they only had a wee height from which to topple and fall, yet with their strappiness they still maintain a properly impractical feel. I really almost did it, and then the guilt set in. I should not spend even $13.99 plus tax on such frivolities. Not when my cash would be directly supporting whatever sweatshop system brought these into existence. (No, Target is not as evil as Wal-Mart, but I still know that the tag boasting "Imported" doesn't mean they're fresh off the boat from Italy.) My $13.99 could buy a book (The Devil Wears Prada?), or better yet, go to Amnesty International or First Christian Church, Pomona. Furthermore, what's the point of deducting precious square centimeters from the surface area of my body that actually touches the ground? I need all the balance I can muster. High heels do not make for grounded women, at least not literally.
The moral of the story isn't that the shoes are still on the rack at the Montclair Target. I still want them, a little, at least as much as I don't want them. Instead of the shoes, I picked out a bottle of pretty pink polish, which I will lavish on my wintery, bleak toenails. As Anne Lamott says, "You celebrate what works and you take tender care of what doesn't, with lotion, polish, and kindness." I didn't even check how much the polish cost, so sure am I that it was cheaper and more justifiable than the pedicure I've been jonesing to get.
Posted by Katherine Willis Pershey