Identity Crisis of the Sole

Generally I like to leave the fashion blogging to my friend Bekah, who is much more adept at handling it than I am. But since it's fashion week, I am finding myself both inspired and confounded.

I find myself overwhelmed by certain aspects of fashion. I am particularly perplexed by certain types of footwear, specifically those shoes that seem to be involved in a sort of identity crisis. These are the shoes that are trying desperately to appear as though they are something other than what they really are.

For example, I find it interesting and oddly disheartening that Coach makes a sneaker. These shoes have all the looks of an average athletic shoe. They have laces and rubber soles, and they are very obviously not to be worn with anything aside from, perhaps, a velour hoody and matching pants. They have a white rubber topped toe, which I can only assume is a nod to their Converse predecessors.

But these sad little shoes cannot be worn for any sort of sporty purpose. They have no arch support; they have no support for the ankles. There's no cushioned bounce if you attempt to run in them. A shoe with an identity crisis.

Similarly, I find myself equally annoyed at newer trends in orthopedic footwear. I see these shoes in stores like The Walking Company, and all I can ever seem to do is shake my head and walk away. I understand that there is a need for orthopedic footwear; a girl has to do what a girl has to do. However, current stylings make use of patent leather and suede. They have bows and clever silhouettes. The unsuccessful nature of this shoe stems from its sole. While patent leather can cover a multitude of footwear faus paux, it's very difficult to camouflage the non-existent heel or the heel that is so clunky the shoe looks like a work boot or the toe that is abnormally rounded. Another shoe with an identity crisis.

I would be lying if I said I didn't own shoes that fall into both categories. Again, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. I have nothing against shoes suffering from this affliction. In fact, I think it's rather liberating in a way. Our shoes suffer from the same (very human) conundrums that their wearers often struggle with.