by Mary Lou Roe ©

A woman and her shoes. What’s with this unparalleled relationship? How is it that a woman can break-up with a boyfriend without shedding a tear but nearly unravel when a favorite pair of shoes has seen their last wearable day? I don’t have a brief answer for this. But I do have a theory:

A woman’s identity is tied to her shoes.

I KNOW! I KNOW! It sounds ludicrous! How can the essence of who you are be tied to a piece of leather that you wear on your foot? Well, I see it like this: at every stage of a woman’s life there are specific types of shoes. Whether fancy or plain, practical or foolish, the shoes a woman wears from childhood through to old-age reflects where she is at and who she is becoming. As a woman evolves her shoes evolve. The two are inextricably connected.

It all begins with the adorable shoes our parents buy for us during the baby and toddler years. Little white ballet-flats with pastel pink flowers and a bright yellow bow. Princess or tomboy, we all wear these shoes. Because we have no developed sense of self. No ability to choose a shoe that reflects our personal style or character. So our parents do it for us. And the result is a shoe that represents how someone else sees us – angelic, sweet, innocent and perfect.

Fast forward to the “Tween” years – when we have one foot rooted in childhood and the other straining for the self-determination that comes with being a teenager. A nightmare phase of identity angst. We don’t quite yet know who we are. But we do know who we want to be: Accepted. Well liked. Normal. And all that comes with the right pair of shoes. We simply look at the popular teenage girl to see what she is wearing and know that if we have those shoes too – Espadrilles in summer and suede UGG boots in winter – our feelings of social inadequacy will disappear. But to our great horror we are still governed by our parent’s understanding of sensible footwear. Our determination to leap beyond our juvenile years is blocked by durable sneakers, sturdy boots and reasonable sandals.

Finally, we are teenagers! Young, hip, beautiful beings who have gained some semblance of control over our lives. And this new-found power is unmistakable through our footwear. From flip-flops and red patent-leather platforms to Doctor Martens and even slippers, our shoes are personal fashion statements that scream, “I am here!” to the world. The thing is – we don’t really know what it is we’re calling attention to. Our sense of self is undefined, kind of like a tornado. It swirls around and touches down briefly but doesn’t settle long enough for us to understand who we really are. As a result, the image we present is hasty, often foolish and not an accurate portrait of our true selves. Not that we care anyway. We have arrived! We are entitled! And you will notice us because we wear great shoes!

The advent of a professional life in our twenties and thirties encourages this youthful pattern of self expression. Only now our shoes reflect traits we would have shunned a decade before. Gone are the outlandish, silly accessories that called attention to our directionless character. And in their wake stylish, mature, elegant shoes that reflect our level-headedness and reliability. The inner storm has started to subside. We are getting a handle on our personal identity; we have a career, we have goals. And the sleek, sophisticated power-pump is a mighty tool in showcasing the sound judgement and solid character we now possess.

As we progress through the middle and senior years we don’t choose our shoes because of what we think they’ll tell the world. We choose them simply because we like them. We have a clear understanding that who we are on the journey is far more important than the accessories we wear along the way. So our shoes reflect our own sense of style, our personal tastes and provide the function we desire. We are content with ourselves and have nothing to prove to the world. The stiletto heel just isn’t as appealing anymore.

Our evolution as women is marked by our footwear. From young, fledgling beings who are governed by our parents to independent adults who have an established sense of self, our shoes reflect our development as individuals. They directly link us to periods of dependence and independence; to times of confusion and personal growth. The shoes we wear connect us to our inner selves.

So, while we may at times forsake a partner without misgivings, throwing away a pair of shoes isn’t so easy. Letting the shoes go means releasing the person we were when we wore them, moving forward to a newer, more developed self. I am sure there are many women who find this notion preposterous. And maybe it is. But if I ask you to recall your elementary school years, your high-school prom or your first job – I bet you can tell me exactly what shoes you were wearing!

Filed under: Author Mary Lou, Shoes