The Island Shoe Girl's Blog

These Betsy Johnson silver stunners are suited for a queen, a first lady, or even just an Island Shoe Girl. Photo by Jean Thornton.

If you like shoes, people will occasionally tease you about your passion.  If you love shoes like I do, people will try to warn you of the dangers of too many shoes.  Yes, I am well aware that walking, biking, and sometimes just standing can be a hazardous task.  Just look at the bruise on my left knee compliments of a wet floor meeting my stylish-but-slick Rampage stilettos. 

 One such cautionary tale that I hear frequently is that of the famous women who let their love of shoes lead to their downfall and not just a slip on a freshly mopped floor.  Two such historical figures I have been warned about are Marie Antoinette (also known as “Madame Deficit” by her not-so-loyal subjects) and the queen of shoe excess, Imelda Marcos.  With the cautionary words “those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it,” running through my head, I do what any good shoe girl detective does, put on my best investigating stilettos and surf the web!

The similarities of these famous, well-heeled ladies are more abundant than one might think despite the centuries separating their rise to fame and political leadership.  It can be argued that both women became political figures because of their husbands’ positions of power, whether inherited or elected.  While both women had a level of notoriety prior to their marriages, without their husbands their lives would have been much different.  Perhaps it was not so much the shoes they wore, but the men they stood beside in them. Tammy Wynette should have consulted with these girls before declaring, “stand by your man!”

Their public held both ladies as examples of grace, elegance, and trend-setting style—at least at first.  However, their public displays of glamour quickly fell out of fashion when their subjects were left with all of the bills but none of the lifestyle for themselves.  Imelda was ridiculed for creating charities that did little to serve those in need and hosting elaborate government ceremonies that appear to have celebrated little more than shameless excess.  In fairness to Marie, it could be argued that the royal family she married into was far more wasteful with money than she was; remember during this time France was involved in expensive wars that were very unpopular.  But wear amazing shoes and suddenly all the world’s blame falls at your feet!

About those famous feet, let’s acknowledge the designer elephant in the room.  Marie and Imelda loved shoes—who can blame them—surely not me or any other girl who has ever tried on handcrafted Italian leather soles!  Marie was rumored to have had 500 pairs and a servant to attend to them; I dare to dream of this day for myself. While Imelda is known for her exorbitant number of shoes, it is hard to find a confirmed number; reports range from 2,500 to 5,400 pairs, but Imelda insists it was only 1,060.  

I can understand that either lady had more than enough shoes. Yes, it can be reasonably argued that it would take years to wear 500 pairs of shoes even if you wore a different pair every day. I can easily have three changes a day and I am not a head of state so I cast no stones!  As much as I hate abuse of power and over spending, as a culture we expect a certain level of indulgence from our political leaders.  Look only at the number of Inaugural Balls held to celebrate the election of a president.  Immediately after the confetti and balloon drop, we begin to scrutinize every penny spent.  There is a fine line that must be walked, in platforms or pumps, between fulfilling all the expectations without exceeding even one by the slightest.  I believe we have to consider the complicated roles in which Marie and Imelda found themselves.

Both of our ladies of leisure had to flee their palaces and their shoes to save their lives.  While Imelda has been tried for various crimes, so far a conviction has yet to stick.  Of her shoes Imelda said to Time Magazine in 2006, “When they opened my closet they found shoes instead of skeletons” and those famous shoes have grown in legend and in reality with their own museum.  As to our young Queen of Excess, Marie’s fate was far worse; she faced the true wrath of French Revolution head on, and I don’t mean that figuratively.  Her shoes and the rest of her wardrobe were also victims of an angry mob that looted and spread her belongings across the countryside as symbols of the revolution.  The only surviving item was a shoe that Marie lost as she ran with her family in a last attempt to save the fairy tale life she had been promised.  Unlike Cinderella, that shoe never made its way back to the ill-fated Queen.  

Is the ultimate lesson that I should give up my shoe ambitions and live a life of flat-footed simplicity?  Before I pack up my shoe closet there is one more victim of the shoe who also had to flee a home: the Dalai Lama.   He was called a “very political old monk shuffling around in Gucci shoes” by Rupert Murdoch.  Allow a moment for the insanity of this comment; look only at the man’s feet once to know he is not wearing Gucci. 

Which I think is the lesson we might learn from all of this: no matter how you try to fill the role you are cast in life, there will always be detractors who try to shift the focus onto more negative things. The true lesson of history is to always have more good deeds in your closet than designer heels.  At the end of life you may only have one shoe left that expresses your personal style; investing in a good reputation may in the end be the better fashion statement.