Friday, November 03, 2006

Shoe-Be-Doo-Be-Doo

Shoes. The mere mention of the word and women the world over break out into an ecstasy that men equate with their team intercepting a pass and returning it for a touchdown. To win the game. In overtime. In the Super Bowl.

Hey, women don't understand our preoccupation with The Three Stooges, explosions and porn, so why should the absence of an extra X chromosome give us any insight into the magical world of shoes? They're shoes, for Christ's sake! They go on your feet. They protect you from damage when rounding the corner into the living room and slamming your foot on the coffee table. They allow you into convenience stores as long as you're also wearing a shirt. They enable the police to conduct the proper forensic tests after you flee the crime scene.

The point is that the average man (and let's face it, all men are average) owns about five pairs of shoes. He owns shoes for work, a pair or sneakers, shoes for formal occasions, another pair of sneakers, and a third pair of sneakers. Women, however, own approximately 400 pairs of shoes, 390 of which she'll wear once or maybe twice, depending if it's a Leap Year.

I decided to do a little bit of sleuthing in the women's shoe department (since sleuthing in the women's undergarment section was a bit too dangerous - and full of other men). I discovered that there is a different shoe for every woman. Some women shape their daily personality depending upon which objects they put on their feet. And yes, I did say "daily" personality. So, without delaying you much further, let's take a look at some of the fruits from the shoe tree, shall we?

PUMPS



A sensible shoe with just a hint of "Banker by Day/Bacardi by Night." Full leather uppers with a rogue-ish chunky heel says, "Bartender, make it a double" while checking your Blackberry in between fingerfuls of Bloomin' Onion at the Outback Steakhouse.


Part ergonomic foot friend, part jawless fish from the late Devonian Period. Made from the finest synthetic fibers, it's as soft as an infant's head when rubbed top to bottom. Rub in the opposite direction and it can smooth the rough edges of a diamond.



Ah, the garden-variety pump. Every woman possesses at least several dozen, in just as many colors, and has several dozen outfits to go with each pair. Don't try to do the math, it won't be on the final.




BOOTS

What would you get if you combined the 1980's fashion sense of Madonna with the torture sense of the 15th-Century Spanish Inquisition? Why, you'd get this charming little demon of the Devil's footwear. The razor-sharp heel and toe combo demands you convert, while the double buckle shows your flirty side and that you're not afraid to lean into your semi-circle of drunk girlfriends to sing Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" for the 500th time on the bar patio.

Nanook of the North? Forget it! You're Nanette of the North! Be the envy of the ice floe with the latest in Arctic foot fashion. Made only from synthetic bunnies who died of old age, you'll be mockin' the moccasins at the next whale blubber-carving shindig.



Don't have blonde hair and blue eyes? No worries! You'll be knockin' them over at the Reichstag with these sexless beauties! Made from only the most boring cows, you'll be goose-stepping in no time to your favorite Teutonic tunes, frau-Valkyrie!



EVENING

Let's be honest here. How the hell does this shoe stay on? What is that paisley-looking knick-knack on the grill? Why does this shoe have a halo? For the woman who has everything and decides she wants a pair of stupid-looking shoes, too.



"Luke, you're going to have to sell your Speeder (before we can fly with Han Solo and Chewbacca to Alderan)" Equal measures sailboat prowl and Star Wars desert glider, it's warp 10 to the future in this snazzy foot conveyance object. Just don't transport yourself between Memorial Day and Labor Day, starship trooper. Roses not included. Yeah, we knew you'd ask.



The serious shoe for serious women, who like things serious. Don't mess with women who wear shoes like this. They'll kick your ass and then light their cigarettes with matches struck off your bleeding forehead. Faux-decorative binding ring can be activated with big toe, releasing deadly neuro-toxins. A serious shoe.


MULES and CLOGS

You're sassy! You're sporty! You like your Britney and you like it loud! You pine for the days of toe-socks and designer jeans. Desperately hold onto your youth with a pair of these hellions. Excellent for taking off and putting back on...and then taking them off again! Available only up to size 5.




Five cups of coffee and you still can't get started in the morning? We hear ya! When you can't be bothered to bend over to put on your shoes and don't even care if they're on the proper feet, try a pair of these on for size. Engineered by the finest chaise lounge scientists, this low-maintenance little number is perfect for those days when you feel like you just can't finish what you...


Feeling bold? Like taking chances and risking public humiliation? Then ease on into these puppies! Made on a dare by armless apes, they're perfect for pretending to fly or shocking the local gentry into passing a law to outlaw you showing your face on Main Street during business hours.


SANDALS



They're flip flops. They cost $29.00. Twenty-nine freaking dollars! Apparently made from the rarest Styrofoam and pipe cleaners, they're not sandals - they're SCANDALS!



Look, folks, I can't make heads or tails out of these things. Something about a ridiculous blocky sole, material clipped from your grandmothers sofa - the one under the plastic - and apron strings. I have to say, though, they look pretty comfy. Not that I would wear them. Just sayin'. All I mean is if I was a woman...forget it. Moving on...



Enjoying retirement? Just ordered a second copy of your AARP card because the first two wore out? Taken to wearing sun hats the size of a kiddie pool and sunglasses so big they border on novelty items? Then this sandal is for you! Complaining about the wait at the buffet will be a thing of the past while this little number cradles the cracked skin of your well-weathered wheel.

FLATS

Out to kick some ass? Protesting the abuses of a male-dominated society? Going to pick up the latest Indigo Girls CD? You'll be posh in the mosh pit with these steel-toed ambassadors of violence and anger. Accessorize with white socks and cuffed jeans, because, frankly, that's all you own.


Dude, you'll be totally groovy with the latest in asexual hippie footwear. Made from only natural fibers, you'll be bogarting the attention of everyone in the room. Secret panel under the heal allows for easy stash of your stash when The Man comes a-calling to hassle you.




Salute that flag! Bake that apple pie! Wave to your neighbor from behind your picket fence, because you wear the true All-American shoe! Classic, practical and durable, it's the shoe for every woman from Eve to Evening.




So, that's my mini-review of women's shoes. Tune in next time when I review women's underwear. I'll just have to wait until it's not so crowded.

4 comments:

mmahaffie said...

Verrry niiiice. I now eagerly await your lingerie report.

SymplyAmused said...

How do women wear those shoes? I'm a woman and begin to fathom the answer to that question. Give me my sneakers and cowboy boots (for dancing) and I'm a happy camper. The rest of the torture implements can stay where they are, in the stores. : )

SymplyAmused said...

Ooops, insert the word can't in there before begin..

Anonymous said...

After spending the better part of an afternoon immersed in your blog (this means I read every single posting), I have concluded that the dinosaur-loving, spider-
eating, plot-hatching, arch-criminal-in-the-making neighbor child has morphed into a Dave Barry/George Carlin combo with a touch of Lewis Black thrown into the mix. Hallelujah! The boy can WRITE! Do you remember …Mad Dog and the fact that you were the only human being who would touch him? … my chocolate chip cookies at Christmas time? … Beth the baby-sitter? … getting caught torturing frogs at the campground? … asking my 350-pound co-worker at Yetter’s if he needed to sit in the back of his car in order to drive? … wanting to ride in my Corvair because you loved the smell of the fumes? I remember this and more … keep ‘em coming … “Jesus Christ Almighty” (a.k.a.; Jesus Horatio Christ/Jesus H. Christ) Frannie