Are Your Shoes Afraid of the Dark?

No, there just wasn't enough room for all of them in the closet.  Given my recent dissatisfaction with the contents of my closet, I thought I should figure out where the problem lay.  I've started to go through everything I own and weed out everything that I don't actually wear.  Don't worry.  I'm not planning on going into this much detail for any other part of my project; it's just that my shoes are the most cohesive part of my wardrobe, so I thought they could tell me the most about who I'm trying to be.

Here's what went into the donation pile (doing my part to lower our taxes). 

Just because you're not right for me anymore doesn't mean that you aren't going to be perfect for someone else.

So, these are the shoes that I don't wear for one reason (the red ones pinch the top of my foot) or another (what was I thinking with the pirate boots?).  The pointy-toed black pumps just don't fit in with the clothes I'm actually wearing in my closet, so even though they're classic, they haven't seen the light of day in well over a year.  I mean, they needed dusting.  I don't need more than one pair of black flats, and the green sandals were bought specifically to match a dress that I've been meaning to finish for the past year or so (just needs a hem and some hand finishing) but the whole outfit was only appropriate for a summer wedding.  In a garden.  In the south.  In 1989.

I would totally have fit right into the cast of Steel Magnolias.

So now, my shoes all fit into the closet with only a little spillover to Mr. flyskim's side, and the only time he will have to ask me why my shoes are under the coffee table is when I've been too lazy to put them away (which is, let's face it, most of the time) and not because there's no room.  Where does that leave me as far as shoes go?  Still pretty loaded.

Sandals (because stating the obvious is the new black)

I have not had a good year so far as sandals go as I've managed to kill off every single pair that I own except for one (e.g. my brown sandals died in a dramatic bus-catching episode and my black succumbed to old age), so every pair above is new this year except for the brown flats on the end.  Nordstrom Rack loves me at this point.  This will work out over the long run as I tend to wear sandals for a number of years (until I damage them or they wear out).

Heels.

Because I wear dresses and skirts so often, I do have a pretty diverse selection of pumps.  I like and wear most of these shoes regularly.  For the ones I don't wear regularly (hello Steve Madden blush-colored pumps), they fill a very specific need in my wardrobe and thereby earn their continued closet space.

Boots.  This is where Mr. flyskim made the observation that he hadn't realized how many shoes I own.

Having to take two pictures to fit all the boots in is when I started to worry that I may have a slight shoe problem.

So, during the fall, winter and spring, I live in boots.  Which is why I have so many?  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.  The hiking boots need no explanation.  I wear them hiking.  And pretty much every weekend when it's cold and rainy.  I could probably get rid of the black ankle boots, but then what would I wear with my one pair of trousers?  And I question the continued wisdom of the gray rocker boots.  I generally get odd looks when I wear them, too.  They may only last another season.

Dressy flats.  Because I've reached the age where I cannot wear heels every day.

Again, Nordstrom Rack is my friend.  I rarely, if ever pay full price for shoes.  Except for the red Mary Janes on the end.  I splurged and paid the full $12.99 at Payless three or four years ago for those beauties.  Best purchase ever.  They're comfortable, they've held up really well and because they're some sort of plastic, rain and mud have not effect on them whatsoever.

Casual flats. 

I don't think these need any explanation.  A girl needs casual shoes (although if I'm truly worried about being age appropriate, should I really still refer to myself as a girl?).

Evening shoes (my preciousssss)

Even at the Rack these were a splurge for me.  But I needed something dressier than my everyday black pumps for an event a couple of years ago, and when will I ever find Kate Spade at a price that I could afford again?  (Pretty often as it turns out thanks to our Nordstrom going high end when Macy's moved in and sending all the designer scraps to the Rack, but as fate would have it, I don't like her stuff all that much).

Up for elimination.

I am reluctant to send these shoes on their way.  The yellow squeak without socks, but they're awfully cute and were a great deal (Amazon.com is another great source for bargains on shoes if you're willing to take a chance on fit).  But if is really worthwhile to keep a pair of yellow slingbacks that you can only wear in the fall and spring?  The black t-straps just don't get worn as much as my black Mary Janes

So, now that I've made you sit through the parade-o-shoes, did I get a better idea of my personal style as I move into my mid-forties?  Yes and no.  I'm not surprised that my shoes are some weird combination of vintage, modern and utilitarian.  I am surprised that the era I see reflected most strongly is not the 1940s as I expected with my love of t-straps and wedges but the 1970s.  This makes some sort of sense because that's the era where I probably developed my ideas about what style was.  And then I did a little research (very little and online only), and it started making a lot more sense. 

One of the major themes of 1970s fashion (along with disco and hippies) was nostalgia.  There was the pretty obvious Victorian influence, but 1970s fashion also took some cues from the 1920s (The Great Gatsby) to the 1940s (shirt dresses, wedge shoes, not as they actually were but through the rose-tinted lenses of 25-55 years of history.  There was even an article about the 1940s revival in fashion in Seventeen Magazine in 1974.

So, it's not much, but it's a start.  I wonder what I'll find out from the rest of my wardrobe.