22 July 2002

French Shoes

I am about to confess to something in public that my husband has known about for me years.  I love shoes.  Of course not just any shoes.  After all I am not that famous woman from the Philippines who had something like 5,000 pairs of shoes.

My favorite shoes are practical, girl scout kind of shoes.  I like work boots, and river rafting sandals and flat plain shoes for dressing up.  When I was the executive director of the YWCA in Clearwater the board president approached me about my flat shoes saying, “The board would prefer that you wore more of a heel on your shoe when you appear at meetings with us.”.  After I informed her that impractical shoes with heels that made me taller then 5’2” were against my religion, the subject was never brought up again.

So finding myself standing in the street market in Senlis, France staring at the shoe vendors would not be a surprise to anyone who knows me.  However, my reaction to the selection was uncanny, although it shouldn’t have been because I haven’t seen one woman walking up and down the cobblestone paved hills with anything but high heels on.  I keep expecting them to limp, but somehow they don’t.

The first part of the selection at the market was the semi-dress shoes, as my mom would call them.  They had very pointed toes with tiny high heels that would be very helpful if someone was attacking me and I needed a weapon.  Then there were the higher heels with spikes as the heel part.  Ouch!  Those would hurt like anything to walk in, but again they would provide a good defense against attackers.  I kept thinking of Barbie doll and wondering if women in France could stand flatfooted once they removed their shoes at night.

The vendor did have a few pairs of loafers.  They were really expensive, but not one pair of shoes had any support whatsoever for a poor woman’s arch.  All I could think of was how far I have to walk everyday, and how much my feet would hurt if I tried to walk in any of those shoes.

The shoe stores and market seem to sell a lot of shoes because each week there are new kinds, but they all fit into the three categories I have described.  I’ve begun to think that French women need educated about practical shoes.

My guess is they think those shoes look sexy.   Feet and shoes and sex just never seemed to quite go together for me.  I hate to tell them, but there are lots of ways to look sexy without being crippled or in pain. 

You’ve probably figured out by now that I am never going to fit in here.  I’d better accept the obvious.  If I keep insisting on being practical about things like shoes, and not eating things I’ve never seen crawling or swimming in Ohio, I am always going to be branded as the woman from somewhere else.  As long as the French understand that somewhere else is the best place on earth…good old southeast Ohio, I won’t feel the need to apologize for my poor selection of practical shoes.