These Steve Madden's were love at first sight... of course so were the other 3 pairs I bought too. Photo by Jean Thornton.
Shoe monogamy may not be a hot topic, but recent celebrity scandals have prompted me to think a little a bit about the wandering eye I have when it comes to my true love—shoes. No public figure can completely escape the glare of the magnifying glass that those with more private and less exciting lives tend to apply. And those outsider views also bring a self-imposed right to debate and determine what they judge to be a fitting punishment. While The Island Shoe Girl lives a pretty anonymous life (okay I am not shy when it comes to publicity), I cannot help but turn my own critical, know-it-all eye on myself and my inability to stay faithful to one shoe designer, let alone one shoe.
When it comes to personal relationships I can proudly say I have never betrayed the trust of another, but when it comes to shoes, my feet are pretty much the biggest ‘toe whores’ you can find. Sometimes I am in and out of several pairs a day, loving them and then leaving them back in the shoe closet as quickly as I can slip them on and off. Yes, one minute open-toe pumps the next knee-high boots with zippers that twist around my calf. It’s not that I don’t love the little soles attached to each pair; in fact, I may love them all too much. I simply have a big heart and, while my shoe closet does not match my heart size, I always find a little more room for the next pair.
I honestly do fall in love with shoes; many times I have declared a pair the ultimate accomplishment in shoes. Yet, as soon as the scuffs are on the soles and the design has been admired by others, my mind begins to think of what other shoes may be out there. Could a pair of Kate Spade suede stilettos be out there waiting for me tomorrow, or should I stop with the Michael Kors’ platforms under toe today? The curiosity of what waits for me beneath the next shoe box lid keeps me straying from one pair to another.
I can understand when wandering eyes prowl the shoe section despite having the support of fabulous footwear under their legs. I myself have cruised the displays of fanciful shoes, fully aware that back home another pair waits for me faithfully, never thinking of another foot. Like a john searching for a cheap thrill, what I have at home in my shoe closet is never enough to appease my wondering mind. My addiction, however, may only come with hefty credit card bills and another pair of strappy black sandals—the addictions that break the hearts, souls, and trust of people usually carry far more damaging scars.
If my shoes could talk they probably could tell a few tales I don’t want out there…especially the ones that I wore during the last Fantasy Fest! If there is a shoe gossip fest behind my closet door, I hope the older shoes are breaking it gently to the new shoes. I can see it now—the Betsy Johnson silver maryjane’s calmly explain to the Juicy Couture pumps that I won’t be calling on either of them tonight. This leads me to wonder if my shoes tell themselves the same things “the other women” frequently say in the aftermath, “she told me she loved me,” or “when she picked me up she said I was different from all the others.”
Perhaps it would be wise for me and others to re-examine our own morals and ethics before throwing judgment at the feet of those who may remain shoe faithful but fail in other areas. After all, if life has taught this shoe girl one thing it’s that the other shoe is always waiting to drop. If you are not careful it could land on your own toe with quite a thud.
My poor shoes might be just as misguided by my wandering toes as those who fall for people who have wandering hearts and eyes. Shoe games surely are not as hurtful as games played with the heart. My only solace is that I have never promised a single shoe my constant devotion. I admit outright what I am. Could there be a day when my feet belong to one pair of shoes? Possibly, but I wouldn’t place any bets
