“Hi my name’s Duchess Chickentush”…”Hi Duchess”…”And I’m a shoeaholic.”  There really isn’t a twelve step program for people with my addiction.  Apparently the popular consensus is that we are a harmless group, but that is only the opinion of people who shop at Shoe Carnival and Payless.  For those of us who have enjoyed the pleasure of slipping into a pair of Cole Hahn or placing or precious feet into Manolo’s we know what dangers lurk in the world of shoe addiction.  When a simple pair of flats can cost $250 or more and you justify a pair of $500 heels by telling yourself that you will wear them ten times longer than you would a pair of $50 heels you have a sickness.  I recognized my illness when my mother in law passed away.  My father in law was stunned to learn that she had over seventy pairs of shoes.  That got me wondering just how many pairs of shoes I had.  So I began counting.  Not counting flip-flops and slippers…just counting the shoes I consider to be “good” shoes, I had over two hundred pairs.  I began to think I should get a grip on myself.

I looked in my closet to see what I could get rid of.  The black flats are necessary for the black crop pants that are too casual for heels.  Then you need a black kitten heel when the situation requires more than a flat, but not really a high heel.  My classic pumps are for formal occasions.  This same holds true for brown, and red, and taupe, silver, blue, and beige but not gold (I don’t like gold shoes).  I have flats in green, turquoise, pink, purple, and various patterns from florals to plaids and everything in between.  They all match some outfit or the other and in addition can be worn with solids just to jazz things up.  I have boots in black and brown.  High and low heels in both colors so they can be exchanged to suit the occasion.  In addition I have brown and red cowboy boots and really cute little short tan spiky boots that have the cutest little spike heels and just look like sex.  I have some really expensive sandals that we purchased on vacation in Key West that remind me every time I wear them of just how spoiled I truly am.  I have some clogs that have San Francisco hand-painted on them, and a pair of lace-ups that are way too fancy to be tennis shoes but are high top icons that have a  hand-painted Gauguin scene on the side and another pair that have Van Gogh.  I have a pair of sandals by the same company that we found in the shops at Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas but I don’t even know what we paid for those (that really scares me) and they have a street scene painted on them.  I have flip-flops of every color imaginable.  I have two or three different styles in some colors. Last year I went nuts for Crocs.  I bought every Croc I saw that looked like it had a chance of ever being worn. I bought slip-ons, and mary janes, and clogs, all in as many colors as I could justify.  I even bought a pair in the colors of my beloved Indianapolis Colts.   I have tennis shoes in white (of course) canvas and leather, orange, blue, green, grey, pink, solid pink, floral, and silk paisley.  If you looked in my closet you would think you had entered a Merrell kiosk.  The right side of the wall is lined with Merrell boxes.  I have them in sandals and flats and tennis shoes.  Merrell’s are perhaps the most comfortable shoes on the planet.  I have never had to break in a pair of Merrell’s.  With all of the shoes that I have I would say eighty percent of the time I’m in Merrell’s.  I love house shoes.  The sillier the better.  My nephew got me a great big hunking pair of bright red fake Converse high top slippers so goofy that you can’t tell right from left, and they are the most comfortable things (next to Merrell’s) on the planet.

With all of this, the first thing I do when I enter any department store is check out the shoe department.  I have to see what is new.  I love the smell of the leather.  I love the feel of the supple hide against my foot.  I like going to the little mirror on the floor and turning my foot first one way and then the other to see how the shoe looks on my foot.  I love imagining what I will wear with this particular shoe when it is mine.  I envision its life at home with me.  I love it already!  Then I go into action.  I bargain with myself.  I don’t really need this shoe.  But wait, if I get it I’ll cut out Starbucks Soy Caramel Macchiatos for a month and that will pay for them…plus I’ll lose some weight.  So by buying these shoes I’m actually doing myself a favor, and I’ll be healthier too.  Yup, that is how I’ll sell it when I get home.  Or else, I bring the shoes in when no one is home and I put them in the closet.  Then I wait for three or four days to wear them.  Then if Mr. Chickentush says anything I say “These old things?  They’ve been in the closet for a while.”  (I know step one…admit you have a problem).  The thing is I actually have some shoes in my closet that have never been worn.  One year for Valentine’s Day, my hubby (the enabler) gave me twenty-four hours of shoe buying.  I went nuts.  I bought shoes in the tri-city area.  I bought shoes online.  I shopped ’til I dropped.  I bought something like fifteen or sixteen pairs of shoes.  Man, it was a great day!!  Mr. Chickentush knows how to treat a woman.  Anyway,  I still have shoes from that shopping spree that I thought were cute, but I haven’t worn.  I will, but I haven’t.

Now that I have spilled my guts and admitted that I am without a doubt one step away from Imelda Marcos here’s the crazy thing…what with adding shoes to my closet and taking none away…admitting that I have a true addiction problem with regard to footwear.  I still have to admit to one more thing before I can begin the healing process…this is hard….I haven’t been able to actually say this out loud to any one else before…here I go…(drum roll please)  I PREFER BEING BAREFOOT!!  Please never tell Mr. Chickentush!  I have to have cute shoes when we go out.  My shoe size is the only size that has been the same since sixth grade. 

 

 

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