With a few days to spare, I still hadn’t found shoes for the wedding I’m standing up in this weekend.
I went to two stores yesterday – Target and Payless – hoping to find something cute and cheap; alas, it was not to be.
A word about me. I – no self-deprecation meant here – truly am clueless when it comes to fashion. I sort of care, but not enough. I will wear winter jackets and flip flops. I wear green and purple together and I don’t even know if they match.
I am a jeans and t-shirt, hair-in-ponytail kind of girl. I rarely dry/style/straighten/curl my hair. Sure, I have stuff – I say stuff because I’m not quite sure what it’s supposed to do – and sometimes I use it (correctly? eh…).
I say all of this to provide some insight as to what it might be like to be me, looking for shoes. My dress is blue. It’s actually a darker blue, but for simplicity’s sake, we’ll call it blue. And my jewelry is silver. The only reason I have jewelry figured out is because, when my mom was helping me clean my apartment, she picked them out of my jewelry drawer, put them in a separate earring box and said, “Here. This goes with your dress.”
Had it not been for that decisive moment, I would probably still be at the shoe store, even now, trying in vain to find an exact shade of blue. Instead, I opted for silver (but I did text my mom to ask if this is was the correct line of thinking. It was).
Since I don’t do this that often, the first thing I dejectedly noticed was that shoe styles are sort of tacky. And some are downright fugly. And some fashionista out there is oggling the shoes that my brain couldn’t even fathom.
I went to Target, and walked back out in about 10 minutes. It’s Target. That NEVER happens to me.
I went to Payless, and couldn’t find anything in my size. I found one pair, which happened to be missing a right-foot option.
“Excuse me,” I said to the assistant on the floor. “This pair… they’re both left feet.”
“Oh,” she said.
And that’s all she said.
I left immediately.
I went to Aldo today, and they didn’t have my size. They also have the European numbering system, which was hella confusing to me. The assistant there, however, was really nice, and she called me “hon,” but it wasn’t in an overbearing way. More like a, “I-feel-sorry-for-you-because-you’re-clueless” sort of way.
And then I went to DSW, where I only went because it’s close to this amazing vegetarian hole-in-the-wall. DSW is like the mecca of shoes (at least to my non-educated brain). I tried on at least seven pairs of shoes, taking pictures of each and sending them to my mom for feedback, before a sales associate came over to me.
I had two different pairs of shoes on at the time, one on each foot, my jeans rolled up to my knees. I just kept looking back and forth from my feet to my phone. “Are you in a wedding?” she asked.
“Yep. This weekend. Trying to figure out what would be comfortable,” I responded.
“Do you have to go with silver?” she asked.
Yes. This has been established.
“Does the silver have a lot of bling?”
What I thought: Silver is silver. What I said: “Yes.”
Out came more shoes of varying sizes, heel length and, well, bling. I sat there, in between the mound of boxes. I got quizzical looks from every single woman who passed me.
Oh please, I thought. Like you’ve never last-minute-shopped for silver shoes before.
Eventually, I tried jokes. “Got my own personal closet over here,” I said to one woman who stepped dramatically over a box.
“I’m Carrie Bradshaw’s assistant,” I offered to another apologetically.
DSW women shoppers were not amused.
And finally, after about an hour of trying on and taking off and re-trying on, and debating the shades of silver and the merits of bling, I found my pair of shoes.
And they’re so elusive, I can’t even find a picture of them.
If anything, this experience has taught me that a woman, regardless of age, sex, or color, should be able to find a decent pair of shoes. (And hopefully not have to go to 4 stores to find some.)
Now, let’s just hope I don’t trip, mmkay?