There’s No Business like Shoe Business

Today, once more, I found myself helplessly entering into the rodeo where no self-confessed poor-willed follower of foot fashion should go and, as predictably proceeds on every occasion, was quickly caught up in the rope of no-hope that is the shoe lasso...

Like a moth to a flame, attracted by the bright lights of shoe delights, it takes just one glimpse of the eye to stop walking by. Then, like a mouse to cheese, to be irreversibly tempted, without sense or sanity, towards the savouring scent of new leather that quickly builds into an uncontrollable hunger that can only be satisfied with yet another pair of killer heels, tall enough to defy gravity.

I often marvel at the marketing psyche of shoe-traction. There is simply no deciphering the secret clue of  the sudoku of shoes - it can only be a waft of eau d’opium that triggers the early intoxication at the door of every shoe emporium and, as each cautious step sinks further into the deep pile of plush carpet, even heels that should demand safety wheels seem to have more comfort than our oldest slippers can feel.

So, teetering in my latest whim for Louboutin, I take my precarious practice steps to master my new levels of tall without taking a fall and yet, despite needing the sales assistant’s arm for standing support, I am convinced I cannot possibly live without this court.

For those of us unduly afflicted as a shoe addict nothing should prevent the perfect shoe investment and, as I scramble to sustain my high heeled pre-amble, I reflect on how far back did I actually graduate from the calling of the cookie jar to the styling of the T-bar….

It may not be surprising, therefore, that my first ever job was in fact in a shoe store where my weekend pay was more often than not already shoe-spent before the end of each working day.

And, as I look back, I recall how my own passion for foot fashion may have influenced (often by means somewhat improper) the buying decisions of my own shoe shoppers ‘….of course they will stretch, you should carry an older pair in your bag as you break them in, try an insole, try two…wow, isn’t that just the perfect shoe?’. Indeed, I wonder, how much of my early-life obsession with new shoe possession has, quite possibly, curtailed an earlier recession?

So, firmly believing if the shoe fits, invest and if it doesn’t fit...well, try your best and, as I prepare to pay for the joy of sore vertabrae, I wonder....even from such a young age how much responsibility do I have for others' foot agility? In fact, with our Achilles heel clearly our killer heels, how many more coveted shoe collectors are now investing in the cures of an Imelda Marcos chiropractor....?

'Til next time, Pandora