Zebra Shoes — Dramatic? Disastrous?

I bought these shoes late last spring (at my local boutique, aptly called From A to Zebra), but I have only worn them once or twice since. While the impulse that moved me to get out my Mastercard is still there, the problem of the 3+inch heel and the open toe made me first hesitate, then reject, each time I considered them. I’ve been conservative about the open-toe shoe, believing, old-school style, that they can only be worn with bare feet, freshly manicured. Yet last summer, with cheery bright nails, I found my legs too pale to stand up to the black-and-white graphic sharpness of the shoe.

But I’ve noticed the prevalence in magazines of open-toed shoes (boots even!) over opaque hose and given that the front of these shoes are black, I thought I could get away with wearing them over black tights. When I tried it, I liked the look — really, with the distraction of that patent buckle, the open toe could hardly be noticed.

As for the heel height, well, I do wear a 3-inch heel once or twice a week on my drive-to-work days. (Thanks to my bike, the kilometre to the ferry is easily managed — really, biking in heels is a breeze compared to walking in them). From car to office, from office to classroom, the distances are never more than several hundred metres, and I can manage that. And in the classroom, if I get tired of standing, I can always sit on the edge of the desk, as I prefer to do anyway.

So, that was the preamble . . . you’re getting used to those now,right?
Our university has expanded considerably over the past five or ten years, and especially in the Fine Arts and Humanities, budgets have not kept up, and facilities are woefully in need of upgrade. My department has run out of offices in “our” building, so along with a few other colleagues I’m housed a little ways up the hill (yes, I suppose this is all preamble as well. Sorry). I could get “from here to there” on non-slippery asphalt and concrete, but there are shortcuts and they involve cutting across grassy slopes and then picking my way around woody roots down a treed (unofficial) path. The grade would make a skiier happy, AND it’s been raining and raining and raining lately, so slipperiness is considerable.

And yet. . . .

Even with new shoes, even with a heel height, she decides to take the slippery slope to save herself half a minute or so . . . .

And at the third step on the grassy hill, a slip turned into a slide and with the next step I wondered if I could save myself, and with 4,5,6, AND 7 I doubted that would happen. Steps 8 and 9 took me close to the intersecting asphalt walk; they were accompanied by flashing apprehensions of my favourite black cardigan, a very fine blend of silk, cashmere, and modal, ripping through the arm and elbow, such ripping then continuing through my skin. I pictured my tights ripping through the sides of the knees, I knew I’d be a mess, I wondered how my hands would fare on the asphalt, could already imagine the tiny pebbles embedded in them. All this in micro-seconds. So interesting to me that part of my brain could be processing these possibilities while the other was making my Pilates-strong core and balance work with my running-muscled legs to keep me vertical.

Step 10 was on the asphalt and I started to feel the possibility of staying upright although I had concerns about navigating a speed bump that complicated the terrain. And with 11 and 12, I knew had avoided catastrophe, and was looking out of the corners of my eyes to see which students had observed my undignified careening down the hill. Humiliation and injury and even wardrobe reduction were going to have to wait for my next foray down the shortcut path.

And that might be a while . . .

With the shoes, in case you’re interested, the black opaque tights, as noted; a black pencil skirt (with a stride-lengthening slit, thank goodness, or I would really have been in trouble!) that I picked up at BCBG while Christmas shopping; a Banana Republic teal jersey long-sleeved scoop-necked top; the aforementioned black hip-length cardigan, Aritzia; and a blue-tiger’s-eye necklace made by a clever colleague of mine.
Any good shoe disasters or near-misses in your past? Do tell . . .