It is 2006 and I’m wearing Earth Shoes. I can’t decide whether to turn my ankles left and right and admire my big, square college-reminiscent feet or impale myself on my comb. Buying sensible shoes does that to me. It is a willing surrender of my ideas about the hip, slick and coolness of youth, and it is always humbling.
I’m back at work after a leave, and much to my surprise, I found my feet and legs were quite sore after a day of teaching. Still healing from a broken hip, any attempt to wear pumps or backless shoes or my favorite spiked boots has been out of the question. I’ve been stuck in comfortable flats, a fate I’ve successfully avoided for years. My ego equates practical with geriatric. I blame it on my grandmother’s polyester stretch pants, and laced oxfords.
What I haven’t admitted is since the summer’s accident, my constant companion is a nagging fear of falling, including falling off my shoes. I found myself unreasonably nervous when trying on a pair of heels the other day and said a prayer that it would pass with time and practice. But I wasn’t convinced.
After I noted the phenomenon to my husband, Jay, he suggested the problem was probably my hip and that I should buy a pair of good shoes at the Walking Store. Smiling, I answered “O.K. honey!” and I plotted his slow, torturous death. Any suggestion that smacks of prudence simultaneously emotes from me a smile and a pain-inducing fantasy. Then I went to the mall.
Remodelling focuses on one’s life from shopping for self to shopping for the house. In fact, it had been more than seven months since I’d been in a store that didn’t sell light bulbs. I was surprised by the black and white printed clothes in every window and overwhelmed at the sheer magnitude of things to buy. Although tempted to veer into Nordstrom’s shoe department, I turned around sheepishly and headed for my original destination.
I have to tell you that what I saw when entering the Walking Store was a complete surprise. No longer was it crammed with Velcro straps and “granola sandals,” Rather it was filled with stylish clogs and beaded flats and fashionable slip-ons.
We Boomers are well into middle age and the shoe companies are finally responding. God bless free enterprise.
After I explained my aching back and legs to a sales representative, he pulled out a pair of wide black Mary Jane shoes. “The heels are lower than the front; it’s as if you are standing on sand.” he explained. “Wearing them will help your posture to remain straight, especially if you stand a lot..”
Eyes widened, I couldn’t help but shriek, “Earth Shoes! I had my first pair in college.”.
With the name, “Earth Shoes” came a stream of memories. Instantly, it was 1976 and all at once, I was wearing layers of long ruffled skirts, heavy wool sweaters, thick tights and leg warmers, Frye Boots, and brown suede Earth Shoes. The smell of a cold, crisp early spring at Ohio State University flooded the store, as did the promise of youth. The depression that accompanied my trip for sensible shoes washed away and I felt 30 years younger. Nostalgia can be a powerful marketing tool.
Of course, I bought the shoes and have been wearing them since. Most of the time, I pass my heels with wistful determination. Sometimes, I whimper.
The new shoes do make my feet look bigger, and they are not as cute as my leather-stitched mules, but my hip doesn’t ache as much as it did, and I am standing straighter. So much for being a fashion icon. As for the future, I’m not giving up hope of wearing my old shoes again, but being down to “earth” today sure does feel nice.
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Be the change you want to see in the world
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Adell Shay is an associate professor of business at Los Angeles Harbor College and a columnist for the Daily Breeze, a Copley Los Angeles Newspaper. Ms. Shay’s column appears each Saturday in the Faith and Values section. You can subscribe to the Daily Breeze at https://secure.dailybreeze.com/services/Subscribe/ or call 310-540-5511 or read the column on-line on Saturdays at http://www.dailybreeze.com/today.