This Shoe Is Perfect

This Shoe Is Perfect

My relationship with shoes has fallen off since the pandemic began in earnest, as has my relationship with most clothing items that constrain, constrict, or otherwise impede my now-minimal movements. Flip-flops, the shoes that I truly wish to wear for the rest of my days, are now the only shoes I really do wear—a small blessing in the midst of unmitigated hell. However, I have stumbled upon the perfect shoe. It is this shoe. I need this shoe and will do everything in my power to obtain it.

To be clear, I already own a pair of Dansko Professional clogs, purchased some years ago in sensible black, during the heady period of time when every woman in my Brooklyn neighborhood was pairing these clunkers with those wide-legged, Strategist-endorsed Jesse Kamm sailor pants that are basically a more tailored JNCO, and I felt inspired to see if I could pull it off. Unfortunately, the combination made me feel a bit like a pottery teacher and also, like I was trying too hard to be something (thinner, capable of a messy bun, interested in spending big money on fresh flowers) that I am not. The Danskos are somewhere in the depths of my closet, now, awaiting their final fate: a garbage bag full of other discarded shoes that I will donate. However, my passion for comfortable shoes of an orthopedic nature has not waned, and so by getting rid of the serviceable, practical Danskos, I will have room in my heart for these new babies, which are now the unwitting focus of my attention.

Truthfully, I spotted the neon iteration on the feet of someone I follow on Instagram and filed the information away, assuming erroneously that the shoes in question were some sort of bespoke clog situation that cost roughly $400. Imagine my delight to discover that these shoes are available online at regular Dansko pricing, and that if I want them, they can be mine.

Danskos are comfortable above all, even if they are ugly, but something about the all-black pair that I currently own feels a bit too utilitarian for my needs. The pair I own now are relegated to quick walks down the street when it’s too cold for Crocs, and if I ever find myself in an outdoor situation where there is mud, a field, or anything pastoral. In highlighter yellow with fetching white trim, I see a shoe that is both comfortable and also “fun”—two adjectives I strive to embody in my everyday. It feels pointless now to try to justify any clothing purchase for a future in which we will be allowed to return to the sort of human interaction that human beings need to survive. My daily perusal of various lifestyle publications paints an optimistic future where people will eventually relish in the joy of getting dressed for themselves, but also for other people. Currently, I cannot muster this sort of enthusiasm, but something about this shoe, which is bright and cheery and frankly, very dumb, is a step in the right direction.

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