To begin, a reading from the book of Dragon Age:
LELIANA: Look at Lady Cambienne’s slippers: trimmed with pearls and emeralds? And those buckles! Toss her into the lake, and she’ll sink right to the bottom; what a disaster.
INQUISITOR: There’s a Tevinter assassin on the loose, and you’re concerned about buckles? On shoes?
LELIANA: Everyone needs a hobby. Besides, you can learn a great deal about a person from their clothing. Gold and jewels on a dancing slipper: a slipper is easily lost and finds itself in the dust and dirt. She is unconcerned with the possibility of losing the shoe, or soiling it – a vulgar display of wealth. But Lady Cambienne’s family has recently lost most of its holdings. They have their title but little else. So: how did Cambienne acquire such a grand shoe, mm? What has she done? Who has she bedded? These are all useful questions, no?
— Dragon Age: Inquisition (2014); full conversation here
January – I said yes to the dress and knew that in order to get alterations done, I would need to have shoes selected by the time the dress came in, likely in early summer. So I did the sensible thing and found/ordered shoes immediately on Etsy that were reasonably priced (because I’m not that into shoes), flat (because life is too short to walk around in shoes that hurt), and blue (because reasons). This felt good to get out of the way, because I generally have no strong opinions about shoes.
February – Friend S, who is also getting married this year, messaged me in despair that she’d found the dress of her dreams and it was just too expensive. Why not gut some other budget line? I suggested. Shoes, say. No, that wouldn’t work – her dream shoes were $___, at which point my reaction was HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, ARE THEY SHOES OR A NEW COMPUTER? Or are they possibly some new combination of shoe and computer? Because, I mean, that would be pretty cool.
March – We went shopping for bridesmaid dresses. The question of their shoes came up. I DON’T KNOW SOMETHING PRETTY PROBABLY I GUESS was my reply, I think (or something similarly coherent). Silver or silver-ish, we eventually came to. But seriously, I can’t remember any wedding I’ve attended ever where I remember anything about the bride or bridesmaid’s shoes.
April – Best engagement photos ever (courtesy the magnificent Kate and Keith seriously look them up, because they are without question the best ever). My footwear was a pair of chunky low heels in grey, ones which are unusually cute for me; and a pair of beat-up fake-leather boots in black, which are much more my thing. Loving fiancée also wore black costume boots, borrowed, and thigh high. Mm. It’s a good look for him, is all I’m saying.
May – My theatre company had its annual gala event. It’s a long day of rehearsal, fixing stuff, performance, party, and strike. I wore black flats, because life is too short to walk around in shoes that hurt after being on your feet for a 14-hour work day.
June – Crippling doubt strikes. What if my shoes are a mistake? I mean, I’m only going to have one pair of wedding shoes (hopefully). Have I been too careless in my decision, in an effort to be time-efficient? What if “the ones” are out there waiting for me on a warehouse shelf somewhere, weeping patent leather tears?
July – I had my first fitting for my gown. Holy crap, I’m getting married. I wore my blue Etsy flats. I really didn’t find that I had a strong opinion about them one way or the other – which is my natural state and thus probably a good sign.
August – At time of writing, it’s stupid hot. I walk around in bare feet whenever possible, because life is too short to walk around in shoes when you don’t have to walk around in shoes. My feet are callused and gross, and I’ll probably want to do something about that eventually (Wedding of Friend S is coming up, after all) (I don’t know if she sprang for her supercomputer shoes).
September – No shoe-related activities are planned, but I mean, anything’s possible.
October – We’re getting married. My shoes will be cute but mostly invisible, which is fine by me. I may actually miss a slight heel at times on the dance floor (because when you’ve done musical theatre, you never really get used to dancing in anything less than character shoes), but it’s going to be a long day, and I’m not going to want to worry about switching footwear.
Some point after – We’re going on a substantially-after-the-wedding honeymoon to Hawaii and shoes will either be hiking boots, minimal, or absent.