Four pairs of brown shoes found their way into my suitcase for the "wedding weekend". I wore autumn colors for the dressed up and dressed down moments so basic brown worked just fine for footwear. A couple of brown purses; one for everyday and one for the wedding made the outfits complete.
My feet, for the most part were "happy" during this five day excursion because I wore the weathered, broken in shoes I took to Europe last year more than any of the others. These shoes have walked me hundreds of miles and leave my feet feeling comfortable and ready for more. They look it too.
Trouble is, these gems were appropriate for part-time usage only and the three other pairs phased in for dressier events; such as the rehearsal dinner (casual but Texas style; boot worthy), a lovely dinner out with Wayne and Tina, and of course, the wedding itself with the dinner and dancing that followed.
These boots, despite the tapered toe are actually not too bad; probably because they're wide enough where it counts and the leather is soft and pliable. These worked fine and my feet were still quite happy.
Next up were these "mules", not too bad on the feet either unless you're walking long distances where steady gripping of the toes is required to keep them on your feet. I kept that to a minimum and defaulted to the grungy ones up top whenever I could.
Ahhhhh....but the best (or worst) comes last. These wedding shoes made me stop and ask the very good question again: Why do we women do this to our poor feet???? Why do we purchase a shoe for looks alone? First off, I needed a three inch heel because I was too lazy to get my dressed hemmed and needed the height to keep me from dragging on the floor. Secondly, I got a good deal. Third, they looked HOT and were the right color. Sure, I tried them on and walked around Nordstrom Rack in front of the mirror for all of 30 seconds. Sadly, 30 seconds cannot begin to compare to the nine hours I spent in them, including an hour or so of dancing on the day of my son's wedding. By the end of the night, the shoes were still quite HOT but my poor toes were a swollen, sore mess; screaming messages to my brain which fortunately was too high on JOY to notice until I shed them in the car on the way back to the hotel.
Just like wedding gowns, and mother-of-the groom gowns, one wonders what to do with shoes that probably will never really work with any other outfit or event that I attend. Three inch spike heels with a severely pointed toe in size 8, anyone?