I’m standing in the middle of Saks, staring at people’s feet. Not because I find feet particularly interesting (I do not), but because I can’t figure out the right pair of shoes to buy. I’ve resorted to studying what everyone else is wearing.
This isn’t my first store visit. This has been going on for months. It’s a real commitment issue. I haven’t bought a new pair in years.
Here’s the problem: I feel trapped between two extremes. Either I splurge on an expensive designer shoe or I settle for cycling through cheap dupes I’ll resent the second I slip them on. It’s an investment dilemma.
To make matters worse, I hate feet. Every pair of shoes feels extra sensitive, hard to get right. Certain shapes (open-toe flats) are simply not an option for me and never will be.
If I go for the expensive option, it has to be the pair. The kind of shoe that earns its rent in my closet. It has to work with jeans, slip skirts, mini skirts; through summer, spring, and fall. It has to work for family brunches, art gallery trips, city walks, photo sessions. And this is where the decision paralysis kicks in: there are so many designs here, but I can only afford one, so it has to be perfect for anything and everything.
And then there’s the trend factor. Take the ballet flat. It was the shoe of 2023-24. Every influencer had a pair, every brand released their version. But now what? Was it designed to last, or did I only like it because it was heavily marketed? The right shoe needs to outlast the hype cycle, work through every Instagram era.
If I go for the cheap version, I can relax on design. There’s less pressure. I could get a few pairs and experiment. Yet, I tried this through my early 20s and none of those pairs lasted or made me happy. Now I stop myself, imagining how much I’ll hate seeing the space in my tiny NYC closet filled with flimsy, torn up dupes. And if I have a rack filled with them, won’t I wish I had just one great Chloé or Prada pair instead?
And here’s the thing about quality: it matters extra because it’s a shoe. It has to sustain constant wear and tear, endless pavement pounding, and all kinds of weather. I’ve had bad shoes before. I’ve bought pairs that have hurt my feet. It’s not worth it.
Shoes are the piece that can either pull your entire outfit together or ruin it completely. The right pair fits in at a Fifth Avenue penthouse; the wrong one has you standing outside of Faena. Shoes are everything.
Of course, there’s the middle ground: Dolce Vita, Reformation and friends. Styles created for the trend at a price that makes sense. From my experience, they are not worth it. They lack the craftsmanship of true luxury brands but still don’t justify their price premium over the cheap dupes. As far as I’m concerned, they’re the same. And it makes sense why — Dolce Vita is Steve Madden backed, Reformation is private equity. There’s an incentive to skip out on quality. They’re made for trends, impulse, profitability and business ROI. The late night, insecurity driven, “checkout now” shopping habit. They’re the worst of both worlds; bad price and bad quality. But yeah, they look great on Instagram for the season. I just know they won’t work well for me.
So here I am, staring at strangers’ shoes in Saks.
There’s a philosophy to this. With a limited budget, do you invest thoughtfully into one or a few pieces that last over 5-10 years? Or do you spread it thin across many different designs? Personally, I find myself falling more into the former camp; but that’s what makes these decisions extra lengthy and extra difficult.
What is everybody else wearing on their feet?