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E-mail StoryHerb Benham: Sandal shopping leads to serious sole-searching
| Thursday, May 15 2008 4:37 PM
Last Updated: Monday, May 19 2008 10:57 AM
Last week, the temperature rose and I caught sandal fever.
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I had none, so I had to shop. I called Harry, fashion consultant to the clueless. He recommended Keen Newports.
“These sandals will change your life,” he said with the fervor of one whose life had been transformed.
Does anyone think they have good-looking feet? Occasionally, someone will say, “My feet are attractive,” and I suppose for feet they are, but take feet out of the feet category, and compare them, let’s say, to hands or a nice, brown deer and you are in trouble.
Unattractive feet are one thing, but they can be compounded by the ugly toe syndrome. If you are a member of the ugly toe society, and some of us are charter members, you perform a kindness by buying sandals that cover your toes rather than display them.
Keen Newports promised to perform that kindness and last week I ended up at Sports Chalet in the shoe department trying on the sandals that would not only change my life, but reduce my net worth about $95.
“You can wear these fly fishing,” the store clerk said. “They’re waterproof.”
I could wear them fly fishing, if I fly fished. If I wore them, would I become a fly fisherman and, if I did, would they help me from snagging the trees?
“These sandals will make your feet look smaller,” Harry had said.
I don’t think anyone is looking for a sandal that makes their feet look larger, but men can be funny about their feet. I didn’t want to be a 6-foot man with a size 4 foot. People wonder about you in ways that you don’t want them to.
The sandals felt great in the store, but therein lie the difficulty of sandal and shoe shopping in general. There is the in-store feel and the in-the-cruel-world feel.
The next day I drove to Clovis to watch Thomas play his last high school match. I mention this only because I chose a sunny day, an outdoor viewing experience and the uncertain outcome of an athletic event to test the sandals that could potentially change my life.
“Change” came early, in the car ride on the way up. My feet started to sweat by Olive Drive and by Visalia they were on fire. I’m surprised there weren’t flames licking up my ankles.
This was not a promising start. I was in a car, with air conditioning on my feet. What would happen when I moved outside? I’d be like Joan of Arc.
What was with these things? They ought to rate sandals like they rate salsa. Mild, medium and hot. These sandals were salsa peligroso.
“You can wear socks with these sandals.” Harry had said.
If I wore socks with them, would it put out the fire or would it be like adding mesquite to a pile of briquets?
Let’s say socks brought the temperature down to something slightly less than molten lava. If I was going to wear socks, why would I need sandals?
Sandals are about being young, free and sockless.
I don’t remember much about the match. My feet were like prison. They’d gone into lockdown. They had ceased communicating with the outside world except by smoke signals.
No wonder people wear these fly fishing. Stand in the stream, the water starts boiling and the fish just jump right on the bank. Ten fish later you’ve gotten your $95 worth from those sandals.
That and you haven’t lost a fly.