I have a confession to make. I haven’t always worn fabulous shoes. I went through a phase in my life where I lived in a pair of black Dansko clogs. They were (and still are, I’m sure) the most comfortable shoe ever created. I mean that.

It seemed to take me an exceptionally long time to “find myself.” You know how most kids are “finding themselves” in their early to mid-twenties? Well, I was a late bloomer. In my mid-twenties, I was successful at what I was doing. I lived in a gorgeous pre-war apartment on Christopher Street in the West Village. I had just been hired at VH1 as a Unit Manager for some silly shows about washed-up rock-stars and one hit wonders. (Remember “Where Are They Now?” And “Before They Were Rock-Stars?” Yes, those were my shows. It was another lifetime ago.) I was making a lot of money for a kid my age, had a lot of responsibility and was traveling constantly. It seemed glamorous in the beginning, I wore fabulous clothes, but I was really known for my shoe collection. It was enormous and my pride and joy. I guess I’ve always kind of been a shoe girl.

But I burned out quickly, ran away to Iowa (don’t ask) and hung out with my dog. After about a year, I made my way back to New York, to move in with my then-boyfriend (and now-husband) who, during all of my flighty searching my soul-ness, was very patient with me. He lived in a sweet little cottage in Westchester County and although we weren’t married at the time, we acted as if we were. He basically supported me while I was still busy trying on new hats. I went to work at an antique store in Bedford that was owned by my mother’s college roommate’s sister-in-law. I spent most of my time reading books in the back office because, well, the store was a bit pricy, even for that neck of the woods, and so there wasn’t much foot traffic. It was the kind of store you went into if you knew what you were looking for. Or had your designer with you. And if you can believe it, I was actually swiped from her store by another shop owner just a ways down the very same street! She heard about me from her hairdresser. How all those ends matched up, I still don’t know to this day. But she found me, paid me more money and had a wildly successful business. If I had thought it was going to be another easy job I was so very wrong. This woman was a former set designer and she meant business. She would take me on weekend buying trips and she expected me to know things. It was challenging and exciting and… exhausting. And that is about the time I discovered my beloved Dansko clogs. I wore those things to work every day, and eventually you could not get them off of me.

And then, one day, my fabulous mother flew into town and I met her and my equally fabulous brother (the shoe designer, I might add) in NYC for dinner at a swanky restaurant and 1) my mother looked down at my feet and said, “who are you, Frankenstein’s little sister?” And 2) my brother quipped, with a nasty little lip curl, “unh-unh. Not at my table…”

I never wore those shoes again. I’m constantly thinking of buying a new pair, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Their disdain for my comfy little clogs hit a nerve.

But today? I got a new pair of “comfort” shoes. They are by Keen, who, if you don’t know, make the most awesome “active” shoes around. They are a sporty take on the omnipresent ballerina flat in a neutral brown color. Not bad to look at, reasonably priced and so awesome on the feet. I am in love with my new shoes. I won’t take them off. I even wore them in Pea’s bed to read her bedtime stories.

Best of all? I don’t think my fabulous mother or equally fabulous brother can say anything negative about these little shoes…