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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Elle avait des tout petits petons...

It sucks having small feet.

I know everybody thinks little feet are dainty or cute, but the truth is, it is impossible to find shoes in small sizes. Stores rarely order 5s, or 35s, and you can just forget about half sizes. This is Europe where if your foot is not a whole size, you either have to buy one size up or one size down (in the interest of fairness, there are *some* shoe manufacturers who offer half sizes, but they are in the minority.) If you size up, the salespeople offer you all manners of adhoc itty bitty fake-its: cork-like foot pads, ankle pads that you stick on the inside of your shoe, entire lifting insoles. If you size down, you end up with Euro-porky foot syndrome. I have seen so many women whose second and third toes overlap from years of wearing shoes that are too small or whose big toes are curved at practically a 90° angle to the rest of their toes. I don’t really like looking at feet, but for the sake of journalistic integrity I have been observing them for the last week in order to serve up some factual evidence to you, dear reader. And of course, this is just my crazy theory.

And have I complained about different country sizing? You’d think with the euro, they’d want to normalize everything, but no. An American 5 is a French 35 is an Italian 34 is an English 33. It’s maddening!

So of course this bitch session was brought to you by this afternoon’s wash of a shoe shopping venture. It is true that I am incredibly picky. I saw tons of shoes where I liked the details but not the color, I liked the leather but not the heel, I liked the color but not the sole. There were some beautiful Michel Perry’s but the little buckle was gold, and I don’t like gold. There were some Marc Jacobs’s, but the heel was not right. Then of course there were some perfect Paul Smith/Emma Hope shoes, but they didn’t have my size. Aargh! Experiences like these make me want to throw some money away on a shoe design class so I can start making my own goddamn shoes.

Ok this is related to feet and shoes, and it’s freaky to boot, no pun intended. In my old neighborhood in SF there was this little old guy who made and repaired leather things: boots, shoes, saddles, belts, you name it. In the window were all these little blobby plaster casts of... club feet.

9:37 p.m. - 2001-08-20



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