As a young child watching Cinderella’s hideously big-footed stepsisters attempting to squeeze their monster feet into her pretty glass slipper, I thought two things: 1. I sure hope I grow up to have elegant, petite, size six feet, and 2. too bad that glass slipper isn’t from Old Navy.
Old Navy shoes will never cease to amaze me. They are affordable, they are colorful—hey, they are even magical. It doesn’t matter what size Old Navy shoe I purchase; it will end up fitting me like a fitted suit-coat regardless. Sparkly sequin flats? Size six but never felt roomier. Canvas platforms? Seven and stayin’ on my feet. But of late, I made a crucial error, or so I thought, under the fluorescent lighting of the cash register. I bought size eight moccasins.
After I tried twice (unsuccessfully. I have not lost my charm, Old Navy’s return policy is seriously just that stringent) to return these monsters, I finally slipped them on my feet and had an epiphany.
Old Navy shoes are like the pants from the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and I was like that fat whiny Latina girl (except the magic of fitting worked the other way around). Haven’t you ever wondered why they don’t have half sizes? It’s because they don’t need them! These shoes can read minds! If every store were like Old Navy, cobblers would be out of business. I think they probably already are anyway, but it certainly wouldn’t help matters for those of them choosing to reside outside of Amish Country.
Old Navy shoes are more than just form-fitting and stylish; they are extremely egalitarian, broaching on borderline communism. They accept that all one really needs in a shoe is a cheap piece of foam and a plastic strap. They don’t disguise this fact and pretend to be all orthopedic and made of leather, like Rainbow (P.S. Rainbow, how is this for a little marketing advice: put your fucking tag on BOTH sandals, for Christ’s sake. Someone might only see my right sandal and think I have ghetto fake rainbows.) I also have my suspicions that at least the straps, if not the whole shoe, can also be boiled down to corn-starch components and consumed when foodless in the dessert, just like Crocs. Where you’re going to get a stove, pot, and water from is beyond my range of knowledge.
There are always exceptions to egalitarianism, and in this case, Old Navy only makes the cheap flip flops okay for women to wear. Men shouldn’t wear under any circumstances. Even if they are living in extreme poverty because they recently lost their job as a cobbler. They especially should not wear the white ones, guy in my Films Under Fascism class whose British accent comes and goes. No one is impressed by the fact that your feet are dainty enough to fit into woman sandals. ON, read the gray letters on the inside of his ugly shoes. But they sure aren’t turning me ON.
But I digress. Old Navy shoes are the best. They are cheaper than payless, last half as long, and fit even the fattest feet. They are the All-American shoe, and you should go buy them now.*
*Old Navy has no comment on this blog. The CEO guy said, hey, I guess it can’t hurt. Oh. But they have no comment.
(Originally posted on Tuesday, April 01, 2008)
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