I took Hubby out and about today and I discovered the weirdness that is shoe shopping Delhi. We wandered past the outdoor shoe “boutiques” and into the main part of GK1 M block in search of that elusive and endangered quarry: the cute shoe.
For the most part cute shoes come in three varieties here. First you have the really god-awful shoes. The GAS have sequins and sparkles glued and sewn all over them in unattractive patterns. They’re incredibly popular here for whatever reason. *shudder* These come in two height choices: hooker heels or so flat you can feel the pebbles on the ground. After convincing Hubby that I was not a stripper and didn’t require shoes with clear 5-inch heels, I moved on to the next shop.
Store number two had yet another selection of shoes fit to be worn on the Corner. Right when we were about to leave; however, the sales guy showed us type number two: the thong song shoe. I realize that a goodly number of women all over the world love these shoes. For those of you in the dark about thongs I’m not talking dental floss between your butt cheeks; I’m talking about dental floss between your toes. I find these shoes really uncomfy and not just because I have hard to fit feet. Besides, I read this incredibly gnarly article in British Cosmo over the summer about this girl that got really sick because of thong sandals. No thanks!
After perusing the collection of shoes at stores three through five I finally realized that shoe type number three was the slightly ugly shoe. *sigh* These are the shoes that don’t have sparkles and aren’t thongs. They have a nice low-ish heel and a strap that goes across the top of my foot. I have a super cute pair of shoes like this that I got in Toronto over the summer (Thanks Mum!) but couldn’t find even remotely as cute here. Bummer huh?
Deciding that it was time to bite the bullet and at least try on the cutest of the Type Threes I turned to the stalker… er… sales guy standing a half a foot away from me. I showed him the shoes I wanted and gave him my approximate shoe size. That’s when he looked to heaven and called out to God. Ok, so I’m exaggerating a little.
All the shoe stores here have these holes cut in the ceiling. No back rooms of shoes here: it’s a person sitting in the heavens throwing boxes of shoes down to the plebes. After almost getting clocked by a falling box, I sat myself down and watched the show.
The sales guys called up in Hindi what size they wanted while waving the shoe of choice around frantically. The person in ceiling would magically find the shoe in a matter of moments and the down the box would float into the hands of the correct sales guy. Very occasionally a box would be thrown back up, but not often. It is a floorshow not to be missed when you visit.
The weirdest part was: I never saw the great Shoe Man in the Sky. Men called out. Shoes fell to earth. It was a very surreal experience; not unlike visiting Sacre Coeur or the Blue Mosque. Ok maybe it was a little different… But not much! Shoe shopping in Delhi is truly one of life’s great mysteries.