Don't look down.

Some shoes have pretty names.

I imagine it's someone's job to name them after girls. It's cute, I suppose, to have shoes named Sonja or Ingrid...as if they're your friends.

It's been quite some time since I've had shoes with a name.

I knew my chances were bleak back in high school when my mother asked a local shoe repairman (in hushed tones) for a favor. She slid a pair of my too-small shoes across the counter, looked at him desperately, and asked if there was anything he could do to help us. He sliced them in half, added a couple inches in the middle, and put them back together again. The modified shoes were still no Trixie or Nicolette...but they fit. (My mother is industrious. She also has a keener sense of humility than I, and was not nearly as tickled when the anecdote found its way into in the local newspaper.)

Since then, I have purchased shoes from specialty catalogs, custom manufacturers, and drag queen websites. Still, my 'specialty' shoes have always lacked something: a name. I don't have a pair of Susana's or Sadie's waiting for me at home.

Recently recommended to me for the winter was a pair of shoes from Dansko. The men's professional clog would reportedly be comfortable, appropriate for work, and (most importantly) identical to the women's version. My hopes soared. I ordered the largest size available and patiently waited for them to arrive.

Their name is Karl. And they do not fit.