I Failed at Buying Shoes That Fit
Nicole Dieker

Oh man, I spent literally the last year doing this. When I started a new job last March, I knew I’d be wearing my black Faded Glory slip-ons to work every day, and since they cost $10 and have a cardboard sole, I knew they wouldn’t last long. I started looking for shoes.

I visited five stores, finding nothing suitable. I ordered three pairs online, only to return them all. The slip-ons got slowly more and more tattered. During the winter I wore socks with them to help the discomfort. That stopped really being an option toward the end of April, with temperatures in the low eighties.

My sister teased me about being insanely picky. I am not insanely picky. I wanted black slip-ons that were not ugly and didn’t hurt. This does not seem unreasonable to me. The main obstacle? My left foot is a solid half-size larger than my right foot. Finding a pair of shoes that fits both feet is a journey that can, demonstrably, take an entire year.

A few weeks ago, the sole of one tattered slip-on became, overnight, so lumpy and uncomfortable that I couldn’t take it anymore. The next day was payday. Despite being burned so often by online shoe-shopping, I set my jaw and went to Target.com, entered in all my quantifiable requirements, and bought almost the first pair suggested.

They were perfect. On my right foot, anyway. I traded them in for a half-size bigger, and decided, close enough. Acceptable. Not made of cardboard. At least I can freaking stop looking. And I’m wearing them right now.