Old Lady Shoes

Yeah, you’ve seen them: old ladies wearing Old-Lady Shoes.

Dowdy footwear that inextricably time-travelled from some economically-depressed post-war period.

Or low-heeled, lace-up shoes resembling dull leather sneakers, that shuffled in from the land that fashion forgot.

Practical shoes. Hopefully, comfortable shoes, given the tired way those old ladies are getting around. But damn, I mean dayam, if not quite ugly shoes, then definitely shoes without style.

And, as you may have guessed, suddenly, here I am, too. 

Last fall I broke my foot. The displacement fractures in the metatarsals (the long bones over the arch) mended, albeit crookedly, with offset mends that make them look like rivers with meanders. (Don’t fall over in shock when I say that my hypermobility includes rather low arches, too.)

This past spring my foot started hurting again, as my second job stocking groceries involved walking around concrete floors and stocking heavy cases — not good for the osteoarthritis or the broken bones. So I got orthotics to provide more support for my poor ravaged feet.

But now my foot is constantly aching, and I’m limping, and am getting what I’m assuming are referred pains in my knee and hip. And when I saw the orthopedist earlier last week for chronic foot pain, he disapproved of my buckled Mary Janes I’d worn to my first job, and told me I need to wear shoes that lace up.

I’m not much of a fashionista, but I can’t picture wearing either hiking boots or my rumpled black sneakers with skirts, suits or dresses. So that means I need to get a new pair of shoes. Or maybe a pair of knee-high boots.) But, I can’t wear polyurethane (PU), PVC or silicone, which limits me to fabric or leather footwear, which is of course, more expensive.

Great! I need to find:

  • slightly-dressy,
  • low-heeled (no more than 1.25″ / 5 cm),
  • lace-up,
  • leather shoes,
  • with removable insoles (so I can replace them with my orthotics),
  • in a size US womens 10.5  (UK 8, EUR 42),
  • wide toe ( C ),
  • preferably brown.

If you’re laughing and/or groaning, you probably have some idea of the magnitude of that request. I mean, that is pretty specific! Not being fond of shopping, I did some quick noodling around online, and discovered that the lower-end department stores don’t carry leather shoes (boo!), and that many of the online sites don’t mention whether or not the insoles can be removed. (I’e also become quite the connoisseur of Web sites with numerous lists of ways to filter search requests.)

I also noticed a general lack of lace-up shoes, aside from “granny boots” with 2.5″ heels. So I looked up the current addresses to the store with a huge, self-serve selection of shoes, and stopped by there en route home one day.

They had nifty boots full of brass buttons, sharp-looking tweedy spectator pumps [court shoes], loafers and flats with all kinds of fun hardware … but an absolute dearth of lace-up shoes. (Since I have wide feet anyway, I checked out the men’s section, but was dismayed to find walking shoes with heavy lug soles, or stiff wingtips so stylishly long that it seemed my feet would look like aircraft carriers, down to the brogues resembling rows of rivets.)

I finally asked a sales clerk for assistance, just in case I’d missed something. She was understanding of my requirements, even letting me slip out some insoles to test my orthotics on a couple of pairs — only to find that the toe boxes were too low-profiled. She too, was surprised to realise that there were so few lace-up shoes. What few they had were made with the insoles sewn down, or were fashioned of (sweat-inducing) imitation leather. And, apparently this year’s crop of sneakers [trainers] comes in neon colors. Naturally, chef’s or medic’s clogs won’t work either.

Le sigh. And this is why I hate shopping for wardrobe items (in addition to the noisy lighting fixtures that drill into my head.); it seems that no matter what I’m looking for, it’s not to be had. The year I wanted khaki shorts, I couldn’t find khaki shorts — yes, khaki shorts! Ditto denim overalls. Or a long-sleeve white blouse with sleeves to fit my arms, and tails long enough to stay tucked in. Or, good grief, cufflinks to go with a French-cuff blouse I found at the thrift store.

And so it goes.

I already have a pair of black sneakers that I wear (with black trousers) at my grocery job. Sorry, but unless I’m evacuating in an emergency, I can’t imagine wearing either hiking boots or my rumpled black sneakers with skirts, suits or nice dresses.

All I need to find is a pair of slightly-dressy, low-heeled, lace-up leather shoes, with removable insoles, in a size 10.5 wide, preferably brown. No, I’m not being picky, I’m being particular.

The “slightly-dressy” and “preferably brown” are what I want, but the rest are what I need. (And unlike a coworker who has diabetes, neither my orthotics nor my footwear are covered as a necessary medical expense. Those orthotic insoles I had to get cost me half of what I pay for my monthly mortgage!)

Even worse, a lot of those “comfort” shoes don’t lace up or come in 10.5 wide.

Or, I can find lace-up “granny” ankle boots or knee-high boots, but the heels are too high, or they are made of some sweat-inducing synthetic.

Or, I can find oxfords with the right heel height and made of leather, but not in a 10.5 wide.

Or, I can find cute, low-heeled, leather lace-up shoes, but either the insoles are sewn in so I can’t use my orthotics, or else they’re so cheaply made there isn’t any arch support.

And so on, and so on.

So now I have joined the ranks of older women looking for supportive, sensible shoes that don’t look too dowdy. Don’t laugh at us gimping along in our leather sneakers; those specialty shoes are DAMN hard to find!

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Sock It To Me

How to dress the Blur:

First, gather all the garments you need for the child.  At 20 months, the Blur has discovered the joy of pulling off his diaper and going nakee!, so overalls / dungarees are preferred.

Next, scoop up the Blur on his next round through local airspace.  Incentive for dressing can often be instilled if he’s interested in Going Bye-bye.  Aside from the usual parental gymnastics/wrestling pins normally required to clothe busy toddlers, this part isn’t too bad.

It was the socks that did in his mum.  (In my self-important grandmotherly role, I like to think I would have figured out the problem sooner, but that’s probably just bias.)

As mum brilliantly deduced after a few days, the Blur was distressed by the order of operations.  Mum does SOCK-shoe, SOCK-shoe.  Blur wants to be dressed SOCK-SOCK, shoe-shoe.  “Well of course,” I replied to her, “SOCK-SOCK, shoe-shoe is the right way to do it.  It’s even.” Mum begged to differ; naturally, she does her own footwear SOCK-shoe, SOCK-shoe.

(Oy vey; you’d think we had opened up an unexpected argument as important as the one regarding whether the toilet paper should be put on the spindle to unroll over the top, or from the back.)

This week there was another issue.  Apparently Blur was quite distressed because the sock seam was underneath his toes instead of on top.  “When he gets bigger, you can buy seamless socks,” I mentioned.  Alas, they cost a bit more, and are often tube socks, and some people can’t stand the way tube socks bunch on the front of the ankle, but Oh Well.

Toe seams bother me some, too.  On the rare days I wear pantyhose, I have to make sure the seam is atop my toes.  I also have one pair of heavy, slipper-like socks with pronounced seams, so I pad around the house with them inside-out.

~#~

Out of curiosity, I’ve questions for you all (accessory comments are encouraged):

1. Do you put on your footwear:

(a) SOCK-SOCK, shoe-shoe

(b) SOCK-shoe, SOCK-shoe

(c) whichever I grab first

(d) I don’t usually wear socks and/or shoes

2. Are sock seams bothersome enough for you that you have to either avoid some socks, or put them on a particular way?