Walking Shoes
One of Baxter’s chapters in The Most Beautiful Walk In The World was titled Hemingway’s Shoes. When I saw it, it immediately made me think about my own quest for the perfect pair. You see, living in Paris makes walking shoes a necessary asset of investment since walking is a necessary mode of transport.
I had arrived in Paris with my Nike Flyknits Lunar 2.0s packed in the depths of my luggage. They were purchased upon two rather fashionable friends’ recommendations a year ago. I never want to risk dressing too sloppily but my feet are never happy when I trade appearances for comfort. Ironically, as comfortable as the soles of the Flyknits were, they were vindictive against my ankles, specifically my achilles tendon. It had something to do with the tightness of the elastic form. Nonetheless, they were still one of my best walking shoes.
However, these Flyknits, as the name suggests, were knitted out of fabric. In other words, they were not susceptible to the cold, particularly that of wet weather.
And so from day one I was determined to find the perfect pair of walking shoes. This is Paris, where every individual walks. They must place walking shoes high in the hierarchy of retail importance.
I considered Mephisto, a brand introduced to me by an aunt. She said that they make the best walking shoes. But the brand did not appeal to me very much because it seemed like what obnoxious teenagers would describe as “old people shoes”. Truthfully, the designs were not very aesthetic, and I was surprised at my aunt’s praise for them since she patronized more elaborate brands such as Robert Clergerie. Beyond that, the price point was not very low either, at least not for a study-abroad student who had to practice austerity as a consequence of independent living.
Eventually I decided to give the brand a chance and walked into the store on Avenue de l’Opéra. The shop windows had clerical A4 sheets printed with “SOLDES” pasted all over them. Well, the message got conveyed.
I searched for the most simple design, such as oxfords or loafers. Many of the shoes had the potential to be included in my wardrobe. One example was a pair of black chelseas. Yet the shoemakers had to disfigure them with tacky details such as a stroke of crass glitter. It is always upsetting to see pragmatic brands attempt the creative. The conclusion that they will fail clumsily is as prophetic as a Shakespearean tragedy.
A pair of Oxfords did catch my eye. They were plain, without any excessive details, and seemed like they would make good staple wear. €149 read the price sticker on the shoe, nonchalantly placed under the “Non-soldes” section. I figured they would make a good classic.
“Pardon, avez-vous ceci dans trente-sept et demi?” I uttered to the best of my abilities.
“Oui madame, je regarde.” replied the sales assistant. At least I think that was what she said. She went down to the stock room and came back up with a shoe box in the same shade of green as the brand’s logo. The words that came out of her mouth went by too fast for me to catch, but I made sense of it and she meant to inform me that there was only one last pair of size thirty-seven and a half. As I looked into the full-length mirror hung between two shelves of shoes, my feet quite at home in the oxfords which were within an acceptable amount of looseness.
The price tag still intimidated me and I figured I should look around even more. There had to be more room for walking shoes in the retail industry of Paris.
“Let me think about them,” I addressed the sales assistant. She likely had an idea of the limits of my French.
And so I left the store and saved my shoe hunting for later. It was at another store that I chanced upon a comfortable pair of chelsea boots. The sole was well cushioned and the high cut silhouette mean my achilles tendons did not have to suffer. €87.50 after fifty percent off. Score.
A fateful sense of complacency budded. I thought my patience and research had rewarded me with the perfect pair of walking shoes. At the same time, I was worried that this was too good to be true. The price and comfort of them almost foreshadowed the flaws that time and wear will uncover.
Indeed, my intuition was right. The top of my metatarsus (bone) and extensor hallicus longus (tendon) began to hurt after a day of walking. Since I have walked in them, I could no longer return the shoes. Sale items were non-refundable or exchangeable anyway. Resigning to fate, I return to risking frostbites in my Flyknits, only utilizing the chelsea for miserly rare days which involved minimal walking. Ah, fate.
