Brand: Old Navy
Purchased at: Old Navy
Materials: Fabric, Plastic
Work Wearability: Good
Notes: I know, not exactly the flashy kickoff (ha!) you were expecting. But I’m doing all my shoes, from the you-paid-how-much designer heels down to plastic flats from Old Navy, and this seemed like as good a place to start as any.
Some of my shoes are going to have more interesting selection stories, but the one for these is simple: I saw them in Lucky, and I went out and bought them. Which I realize makes me sound like a brainless little shopper bee, but hear me out. I have my reasons.
You see, I am not a naturally stylish person (for conclusive proof of this fact, see here). And four years at Caltech, while excellent for learning organic chemistry, thermodynamics, and how to sleep through most of math class and wake up just for the proofs, provided exactly zero guidance in how to dress like a sane adult. So it was that I was well into my twenties and in the process of being kicked out of grad school (more on that later) that it began to occur to me that there could be more to clothing than jeans and t-shirts and Salt Water sandals, but I knew I was never going to get there on my own. So I decided to seek expert advice.
Of the myriad options, I settled on Lucky, because I liked its straightforward approach (Here are some products. Perhaps you would like to buy them.) and What Not To Wear, because it featured people who looked even worse than me. Which brings me back to the shoes (I knew we’d get here eventually). I saw these featured on a page of very similar pairs and since they a) were the only ones that cost less than fifty dollars and b) fit the WNTW edict of “pointy toes make your legs look longer,” I made my way down to Emeryville and bought them (for about $9, I think, the discount-happy folks at Old Navy having already marked them down). I bought another, similar pair in a houndstooth print at the same time, which I may get to eventually.
I’ll admit, they’re not the world’s greatest shoes. There’s no padding to speak of, the plastic aspect means my feet can get sweaty and too much walking can make the edges rub (you can actually see that a bit in the photo– I had just worn them to Kinkos and back to get the posterboard). But they’re still kind of cute, and work-allowable (I’ll get back to this too), so they still see a certain amount of use, mostly with skirts.
Because, you know, they make my legs look longer.