I've Turned Into My Grandmothers. And Proud of It.

On a hunt to find shoes for Greece trip (Wednesday).


DSW in Bethesda.


Flats galore. Tons of them. Tons cute, great colors, but none fit right or felt like I could walk a million miles in them.


So I headed to the wedges.


I've been ambivalent about them, but figured a) they'd be stable to walk in, and 2) if I found a pair with enough visual interest in the heel, I'd be happy.


So next to the Rocket Dog 5-inchers, I see a pair of sand colored, old skool espadrilles.* Peep toe. Cute. Then I notice the box.


Grasshoppers.


When I was a shoe salesgirl in high school, I used to sell them to all the old ladies at the nursing home. My grandmothers both lived in them (and I'm sure Mom-Mom still has a few pair in her closet).


So I put them aside, and wandered on. Couldn't get over the Old Ladiness. But man, were they comfortable.


Wander, wander, wander. About 10 pairs of flats later, H finds me. MiL has struck out on her shoe search. So I take him over to see the Grasshoppers. He wrinkles his nose. She declares their Elegance. That nearly clinches it (and not to buy them).


But I keep them on, and they really are totally cute. Pushing the envelope, I'm calling it.


In the meantime, H still hasn't stopped making fun of me. Or rather, only enough to rag on me for not working on my thesis instead of posting. Yeah. Well, a girl's gotta have a break, right?


*Online stores only seem to have the black linen ones. Mine are more stone-colored.