peevish mama

Our favorite pair of Effi’s mom’s shoes was a high, high, stiletto sandal.  The heel was wood, or wood-like and the strap was suede, or suede-like.  They might have been Candies.  Ultra sexy.  Since there were only two of these puppies, Effi and I would split them, limping around until we grew tired.  Sometimes we would make faux long nails with Scotch tape painted with nail polish.  Then we would lounge on the couch eating buttered bread sprinkled with sugar (a Belgian children’s snack?), trying to keep our nails from sticking to the bread and languidly stretching our one grown-up looking leg into the air.  

Needless to say, big heavy clunky wooden slip-on sandals were not the ideal summer shoe for a child of eight, and I although I found them quite fetching, they were incredibly uncomfortable, so I never wore them.  Surprise surprise, my mother was right.

And now, thirty years later, I was casting about for an alternative to my poser surfer Reef flip flops and I remembered my Dr. Scholl’s from yesteryear.  Perfect, right?  For one thing, I simply adore the idea of an exercise sandal, one that tones and shapes your legs as you walk – one with therapeutic benefits for the phalanges.  Furthermore, that clunk, slap, clunk, slap they make is super sexy.  Now that I’m older than Effi’s mom was at the time, I figured I could probably rock the Dr. Scholl’s like she did.

So they came today.  In white, no less.  Very very nice.  Only, God dammit, these fiendish shoes are as uncomfortable as I remember.  They are heavy and awkward and although they look good in a bit of a retro way, they will hardly do for the quick surges I need to catch Devil Baby when she darts off in a parking lot.  The box says: “feel crazy good”.  But they don’t feel crazy good at all.  They feel crazy bad.  Man, am I a sucker.  Twice was I suckered by that shady foot doctor. 

Dr. Scholl, if you are still alive, you are so on my shit list.  Again.  

I’ve decided, however, they will be my Adirondack chair shoes, perfect for lounging, reading and drinking wine. So if you’d like to see them, drive on by and I will be languidly stretching my grown-up looking legs into the air (minus the Scotch tape nails and Playboys).