In the past two years, I’ve spent considerably more time thinking about shoes than I have since I was three and obsessed with my Disney Sleeping Beauty Heels. Maybe it was because I went to an all girls school, where I had to wear uniformed shoes, but after I grew out of those princess heels, I became rather uninterested in shoes in general. Looking back, I think it was a combination of things.
I knew (even before getting on the plane to Scotland) that I needed to think a lot more about what I was wearing than I did while throwing on my high school uniform. Yet, I still didn’t think much about footwear – other than Wellies, which I knew I was essentially required to obtain. Even then, I was more concerned with what was waterproof and comfortable than anything that really matched my style.
It wasn’t until I came to St. Andrews and met my best friend, who has a raging love for ballet flats, that I really started thinking about my footwear once again. But that doesn’t mean I was interested; I was staring at her velvet flats and the sparkly gold pair right next to them and wondering why I preferred a frat shoe to a flat. I couldn’t figure it out.
The consideration of what was wrong with me (and my considerable disinterest in footwear) only continued when I finally sat down for winter break and took it upon myself to watch all six seasons of Sex and the City. As I always do, I considered which of the main characters I could be: Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, or Charlotte? The answer was obvious to most people who knew me: I was Carrie. It was what every single one of my friends concluded, and I agreed with them. The one problem was the gaping hole in my closet where $40,000 worth of shoes was supposed to be. The bigger problem: I still didn’t care.
Maybe growing out of my Disney Heels was something traumatic that turned me off shoes as a whole, but I figured there had to be something else to it. All my university friends were much more willing to spend money on a cute new pair of shoes than I was; I didn’t even want to buy a pair of boots I knew would serve me extremely well in this town. When I went home for the summer, I returned to my pair of cheap flip-flops and completely forgot about the whole dilemma of footwear that followed me around St. Andrews.
Yet, as I packed my bags at the end of the summer, I was all too focused on which shoes I was packing. I, of course, had a pair of Wellies waiting for me in storage, and two pairs of Uggs that I only wear when I feel brave enough, but the rest of my footwear had made the trek back to the States with me. It was easily the worst part of packing — and I love to pack. I considered the idea of going out and buying pairs of shoes that would blend more seamlessly into the St Andrews social scene. But I couldn’t do it. No matter how “St Andrews” it was to drop endless pounds to add to your shoe rack, it wasn’t me.
I stuck to my basic heels for balls, tennis shoes for a casual walk, stole a pair of my mom’s flats, and called it a day.
You’re probably all wondering where this is going, and there’s a point, I swear. I think there’s more to it than whether you like shoes, or if you don’t. It clicked when I was walking barefoot around my friend’s place in Austria and realizing how little it bothered me. To me, walking around my yard barefoot was something easy and normal; to some of my friends, that was unheard of and highly questionable behaviour. I realized then that I might not be some outlaw with a random indifference towards shoes, but that it could have everything to do with where I grew up.
When I was younger, summer meant walking barefoot around the yard. I’ve spent countless hours on the beach by my house, and even when the sand was piping hot, I’d ditch my flip-flops. Shoes were always a means of transportation between destination A and destination B. The easier they were to slide on, the better. Comfort was always the priority, and it still is. Coming to a place like St Andrews, where people come from so many different places, it only makes sense that some people happen to care less about their footwear. I just happen to be one of them. Besides, it’s not like I disdain wearing shoes or anything — I think it’s just that I don’t have those sparkly pink heels anymore.
Although I don’t think I should be the backbone of anyone’s fashion advice, I have to say that whether you love shoes or you hate shoes, has no reflection on your place in this town. St Andrews fashion can often be intimidating, but if I and my indifference can find a place, I’m pretty sure anyone can. At the end of the day, they’re just shoes. It doesn’t matter if you think they’re there to only protect your feet, or if you’re building your own $40,000 collection. It’s all about your own style and preference. If you get really worried about what to wear or not wear, always remember you can just go barefoot on West Sands!