It wasn’t the overly-telling suction to my chicken legs. It wasn’t the apparent contour of my booty that I was worried about. You wanna know the real reason I was stressed out about embracing skinny jeans?
Skinny Jeans come with the commitment that you must also buy a specific sort of shoe. This just felt like a large fashion commitment. So I was, admittedly, a late adopter.
|I find these shoes REPUGNANT and blister-inducing.
No offense. Image Source
And while I think I have somewhat navigated the world of skinny jeans, I think I am still working out the shoe part (and the sock part for that matter).
I have come to realize that I am not the best accessorizer of feet.
I don’t consider myself a “fashionista” but I’ve always considered my style “comfortably cute,” to say the least. I mean, I get compliments on what I wear, so I can’t be a horrible dresser. But recently I’ve had an epiphany. I don’t get compliments on my shoes. I get… comments.
It all started in ninth grade. We did this thing called “The Issuing of the Faults,” where everyone went around in a circle and told one another their faults. It was a bonding experience. I don’t remember what anyone else said really (well, Elaine told me I had ugly hands, but whatever), but something that Ruth said stung me to the core.
Before I tell you, I should probably paint a character sketch of Ruth…. and Ruth, you must understand, I mean this very lovingly and with extreme affection. Ruth wore the Muppets on her clothes. Usually she wore a long-sleeved striped shirt underneath a short shirt and sometimes overalls. All her clothes were purchased at Savers. Truth be told, it was one of my favorite things about her. She was a hipster long before it was cool to dress… like that.
My point is, it blistered when Ruth announced that she didn’t like my shoes. It was the first time I gave into peer pressure; I bought new shoes that weekend.
But I still remember these very shoes with nostalgic fondness!
Here’s the best image I could rustle up.
If you can’t tell, these shoes had a one-inch foam platform, and were cobbled with brown striped suede. They gave me the needed height to navigate the high school halls with dignity. Apparently my dignity was misplaced.
Years later, my feet are still getting comments, though I am realizing that the bulk of my trouble comes from my sock issues. Jeremy has REAL issues with my socks.
Most Recently, the comments have been:
- “Sierra, your socks.. don’t even come close to matching.”–Jared
- “Jared, haven’t you noticed? Sierra’s socks never match.”–Kristy
- “Sierra, those are boy socks”–Chloe (To which, I scathingly reply, “No they are not! I stole them from my mom’s sock drawer.”)
- “Sierra, you’ve got to stop wearing my socks.”–Jeremy (yesterday)
- “Are those really the shoes you want to wear today?”–Jeremy (he says this every time I want to wear my beloved moccasins).
I thought all was fair in socks and war, as long as Burkenstocks or Jelly Sandals weren’t involved.
But you know what, I have cold feet, so I need warm (boy) socks! And I get ready in the dark, and so I can’t be asked to locate socks that match in the dark in the immediacy of the cold feet issue!
Jeremy told me I needed to purchase these special (flimsy, piece of crap) socks to accompany my skinny jeans shoes. But honestly, I don’t see the major difference between
Honestly, you can still see my socks no matter what, but in one pair my feet are cold and the other are not.
And you know what?! If Moccasins had platforms, I would certainly be buying those too.