Tiny Shoes Syndrome

 

In Praise of Tiny Shoes 

I was going through my closet recently and tried to decide which item of clothing to purge from an array of garments I no longer wear. It is an impressive amount, let me tell you. I just know it will take a lot of self-reflection to determine which items are no longer beneficial and which will benefit others at Goodwill or by selling online.

However, it was the number of shoes I had collected over the years that brought back the most nostalgia for me. The boardroom meeting pumps, the fancy Mary Janes, and many in patent leather. The walking to work flats, the sensible loafers, the dancing all night Baby Dolls, all of many colors, textures, and heel heights. Flirty, serious, casual, and memorable.

When I wear a few of these gems, my guy friend calls them my tiny shoes. I suppose that might be correct: being a size 7 to 7 and one-half, medium width, depending on the brand, is average for a woman, I’m told. But what struck me was the idea of them being called ‘tiny’ with a capital “T.”

I still like to dress girly, even in jeans and t-shirts with a flirty blouse or dress shirt and blazer. If I have to be casual, a pair of Keds does me just fine. Wearing running shoes, trainers, or everyday knockabout shoes or clogs—don’t do it for me unless I’m really going to the gym or something. No, a perfect pair of flat Keds or Nikes works just fine in that case.

I suppose being called ‘Tiny’ can be considered a term of endearment. But for me, it became a metaphor for not being relevant, not being full, being insignificant, or not being validated in some way–of being small.

Well…I’d like to think that my presence matters in the world! 

Do we have to dress down in slouchy, dirty jeans or messy, run-over running shoes to be considered worthy of acceptance? No! Does it mean that because we don’t wear tight leggings with tennis shoes all day that we are considered unhealthy? No! Does it mean that because we dress in a particular way, we don’t have children to care for or a significant other in our lives? No! Does it mean that we are too uptight to let our hair down on occasion to have fun? No! Of course not.

Then what does it mean?

As I see it, does this Tiny Shoes Syndrome, as I call it, mean that as women we’ve shrunk to fit in? That there is no place at the table for the likes of us; unwanted unless we wear sturdy shoes? Does wearing feminine footwear somehow diminish our temerity to stand up for ourselves? That we don’t have a voice and a place in today’s society? That we’re too high and mighty for the world of today? Not down to earth enough? Outdated and nonconforming? Used up? 

Hardly! There is something to be said for having class, standards—and choices for goodness sake.

Wearing these kinds of shoes is my choice and mine alone. I look at these cute shoes and wonder just how seriously the world took me when I wore them. Are they tiny in comparison…to what? Not my ego. Not anyone’s, for that matter, but my own sense of who I am when I wear them. The confidence they bring when I put on a pair is transformative. Coupled with the outfit of the day, I can’t be stopped. Even if I’m only going to the grocery store. Who gives a rip!

I like my tiny shoes.

They will be hard to purge, but I hope that dispensing with a few of these shoes, which I think did me just fine back in the day, will help someone else find their voice, their sense of self-worth, however tiny the size or the importance.

~DaMarie

Photo Courtesy of Cole Miller