If the Shoe Doesn't Fit

Forever looking for a 42 ina world of 39s.

- willow lindley

I leaned against the department store counter, waiting for my mother to finish shopping, my gangly legs outstretched in that particularly teenage way. In the blink of an eye, she turned and then suddenly flew into the nearby underwear display, which was tiered like a wedding cake. Only after scores of lace garments rained down upon us did I realize what happened: I had tripped her. A mixture of embarrassment, laughter, and frustration emanated from my poor mom, still prone as she said: “You and those big feet.”

Puppies grow into their paws. For years growing up, my shoe size was the same as my age, and by the time I was 10, my footwear was scaring me. I finally found my groove in my late teens by leaning into the classics: Converse high-tops—in black, cream, red, and navy—became my signature shoes, and in my 20s I gravitated toward ballet flats and men’s penny loafers, both of which were easy to find in my size and came in abundant colors and materials.