Skele-Toes or Stilettos?

I’ve had a strange day.  I suppose it actually started to be strange the night before.  Excited to hear from a friend and fellow reader that Scott Turow recently had released a new novel, I downloaded to my Kindle a sample of “Innocent”, the sequel to “Presumed Innocent”, a Turow thriller made into the memorable movie with Harrison Ford and Bonnie Bedalia. 

Actually, Turow’s “new” book is not so new after all.  I not only had bought it in hardback and read it, but that had occurred so long ago I had forgotten the title.  At least I didn’t buy the book twice.  One good thing about Kindle—the opportunity to try a sample before buying.  And if I already had bought the book on Kindle and archived it, some magic memory in the device or elsewhere, tells me I already have bought it.  So I guess that makes two good things about Kindle.

Today I drove to the Zappos outlet store in Shepherdsville, Kentucky.  My Internet search had revealed this outlet store as a good place to buy heavily-discounted, comfortable shoes.  I should have known what to expect when the huge parking lot for this very out-of-the way outlet store was crammed packed. 

Walking into the store I was agog.  I had come looking for a pair of walking shoes for an upcoming trip.  Only to be greeted by rows and rows of greatly-discounted, supremely-unbelievable and extraordinarily-unwearable high-heeled shoes.  One prettier than the next.  

Even though I had no intention of buying or wearing something that uncomfortable, of course, I had to try on a few of the four and five inch heels .  The bad karma for my hubris was just waiting around the corner for me.  Silver, baubles, satins, suede and every type and style of heel, row after row, grouped only by size.  An occasional ugly duckling, which might be wearable, hidden in between.  Like looking for a plain needle in a pretty hay stack. 

To make the hunt more difficult, I was looking for 7 and a ½ wide.  Bone chips or a deformity, depending on which orthopedist I choose to believe, makes the ball of my right foot hard to fit into a medium width.

After an hour’s efforts and reshelving the rejects as the store’s signs requested, I had selected three pairs as possibilities: one pair, mid-heel black pumps for upcoming parties and events; one pair, Mary-Jane flats with cradle soles and comfortable inner soles; and one pair of tan moccasins, sort of dressy and more or less comfortable. 

 I kept on the moccasins, about which I was still undecided, and went off to check out the extra-marked-down racks of athletic shoes.  The sale shoes were in no particular order, even by size, so it took some hunting.  A couple might fit, so I took them back to where I had left the two pairs I had decided on, as well as the tennis shoes I had worn for this adventure.  And they were all gone.

After some searching and panic, I found a store clerk who confessed he probably had reshelved my selections in an effort to keep the store tidied.  And he also had put my used Easy Spirit walking shoes with $90 orthopedic inserts, into a box and somewhere onto the racks.  The next 45 minutes or more were lost in a blur of frantic searching to find at least my own shoes and expensive inserts.  By then the store’s moccasins were starting to hurt.  At least I had decided not to purchase those, assuming I could find my own shoes again.

All’s well that ends well.  No one had purchased my Easy Spirits so I was able to leave in my own shoes.  After another exhausting search, I found the two other pair that had fit.  They actually were size 7w, not 7and a ½ w, as I had thought.  I bought those two pairs, at the advertised 50% discount, with the clerk graciously giving me his additional “friends and family” 10% discount.  A fairly happy ending to my shoe-shopping expedition.  

On the way home, I decided to take a short detour to Shoe Carnival, another discount shoe store.  “The Carnival” appeared closed as they had no outside tables, no obnoxiously loud music blaring into the parking lot and their windows were almost dark.  On entering I discovered Shoe Carnival is still open, though all the pretty, unwearable stilettos seem to be in Shepherdsville.  I tried on a few pair of sensible shoes, keeping close track of my own shoes now that I was alerted to the possibility store personnel might decide to add them to the inventory. 

Nothing grabbed me as being particularly noteworthy, unusually comfortable or worth my spending more money on shoes.  But, as I headed out, I spotted some very unusual looking shoes: Skele-Toes.  They were totally different and as far removed as is possible from the pretty stiletto swans of Zappos: about as ugly, strange contraptions with molded rubber soles as I have ever seen; the toes separated into four neat compartments and defined by bright markings.  Though they did have all black pairs which deemphasized the strange toe pockets.

I tried on a pair of Skele-Toes, with purple highlights.  I figured if I was going to wear something this ugly I might as well own the look.  I have worn them ever since.  Their name reminds me of Skeletor, the villain who took on He-Man, when afternoon cartoons amused my sons many years ago.  Wearing the incredibly comfortable Skele-Toes I think I could take on He-Man too.  What a strange and fun day.