so what's in a shoe? many an artist paid their due to a shoe or two. warhol got his start illustrating shoes, for example. van gogh & thiebaud painted shoes. and due to some strange habit, i find that i always look at someone's shoes when i first meet them. it seems to me that shoes, of all things, can say a lot about a person. shoes can tell you whether a person is athletic, or if they like to walk through mud puddles, if they've just mowed the grass, or if they work in an office. shoes can tell you if a person likes hip hop or country music, if they are rich or poor, if they are a sloppy painter, if they ride motorcycles, or if they are a skateboarder who can ollie. they can tell you if a person walks a lot, or a little, or if they're old or young, in fashion or just plain out-of-style. i find this notion fascinating. when my friend john simon passed away, i inherited two pairs of his shoes, brown slip-on loafers covered in little tiny splatters of every which kind of color of paint. they speak to his fury and passion for paint, and they're some of my most precious possessions. and since i moved to the stix and my tired old feet started hurting, i've been extra shoe conscious on the home front. i find myself prioritizing utility over aesthetic, flat over heel, and cushion over fashion. how my collection of "granny shoes" has grown! and so, considering my forty or so pair of second hand sneakers, boots, galoshes, mary-janes, clogs and sandals, i wonder what someone would say of me at first glance.
these here ropers pictured above were traded to me by my dear friend karie jane who, mind you, is just as shoe crazy as i. she coveted a pair of snazzy white wingtips i found while thrifting, and i relented. but as far as i'm concerned, i think we both traded up.
"What becomes of the broken hearted? They buy shoes."