I went to town shopping with my sister, my mom, my dad, and my sister's boyfriend yesterday. It was like a whole family shopping trip... kinda strange. Warren (the boyfriend), my father, and I determined that we don't like hanging around waiting while other people shop, however shopping itself is not so bad, as long as we know what we want, go in, get it and leave. Exceptions for browsing include electronics, books and power tools. My sister and my mom agreed that hanging around waiting is not a problem, and that shopping is fun. Isn't it ironic, then, that mom and Liss did most of the shopping, leaving dad Warren and I to hang around waiting?

Shoe stores. I think you can tell a lot about a person by their shoe store behaviour.

My mom walks around, spots a shoe she likes, and the first thing she does is pick it up and look at the price, then immediately slips the display shoe on her foot. I don't get it. The display shoe can be anything from a size 5 extra narow to a size 10 super wide, and she will still put the shoe on her foot, and then stick her toe out in front of her to see how it looks. If I squeezed my foot into a shoe 1.5 sizes too small, I would not be waving it around to see how it looks. I don't get it. She then takes the shoe off, and goes to the next shoe and repeats the process. As there seems to be a vast number of shoes in every single shoe store, this can take a long while.

Melissa, my sister, who happens to wear the same size shoe as my mom, picks up a shoe, looks at the price, and if it's over say about $10, she puts it back. Her idea of shoes is quantity not quality. If she can get a pair to go with every outfit she has to wear, then she's good to go. I think she considers shoes a disposable item, hence the large number and low price. M'liss, after checking that shoe passes the "cheap test" (my phrase, not hers), then waves her hands and flags down a salesperson (poor salesperson who heeds her summons) and then asks for said foot apparel in her size. Salesperson goes into "the back" and for the whole time he or she is back there, my sister gives a rundown of the various items in her wardrobe that the shoe will match. When the salesperson comes back, she tries on the shoe, they invariably have her size, they invariably fit perfectly. She takes 2 steps in them, looks in the mirror, puts them in the box, and asks what other colours they come in. Adding stacks of the colours that match things she has, her pile of shoe boxes increases very quickly. Each time the salesperson goes to the back, she walks around a picks out another shoe to repeat the process. This continues until her stack contains all the shoes for under $10 in the store, at which time she goes to the checkout and we can finally leave. During the process however, my mom is faced with a jillion pairs of shoes in her size! This seems to fill her with extreme pleasure, as she puts one on, waves her toe, and takes off the shoe. Not actually buying anything.

Warren, though I didn't observe him much, seems to have some shoe staples in his closet. A brown sandal-type shoe, black sandal-type, sneakers, black formal, black casual, brown of same.... etc. He looks at them, decides he already has one of that category and moves on. When he sees something he likes, quickly and decisively, he buys. Melissa asks his opinion on every pair she tries and he seems to have some standard answers, all very short, all very supportive of whatever tone she asks "How does this look?" in. He's got her figured out.

My dad. He will only actually walk into the shoestore if the shoes he has are already falling off his feet and my mother has threatened not to take him home unless he buys a new pair. Needless to say, he only really has one pair of shoes at a time, and they must meet very specific qualifications, because, after all, they have to match everything he wears and be perfect for every possible occasion. The specifications change every time, rendering it impossible to help him choose. Yesterday was one of those days. The flip-flops he's been wearing have seen their last days and it was time for new shoes. They had to be open, as his feet seem to swell in closed shoes lately, not have plastic of any kind in the sole, not be different colours, be comfortable, and as they will also serve him as a walking shoe, provide support and be easy to walk in. "Impossible!" you say, and I agree. What the heck kind of shoe is he looking for really??? Fortunately the shoe store seems to carry just such a shoe, which we show him. He disagrees, we go behind his back and ask the frazzled salesperson helping my sister to grab a pair in my dad's size. He puts them on, walks around the store for half an hour (while everyone else shops) keeps on the shoes, pays for them and hands them his to throw away.

For me it's always the same. I go into the shoe store with a very specific idea of what I want. I find it. It's perfect! I first check the inside to see if it is comfortable and has arch support and soft padding. Then I check the size of the display model, which is always a size smaller than I wear. I find a salesperson (Melissa is actually by this time employing 6 people on a rotation so there's no one left really). When someone finally comes to my aid, I hold up the display one and ask for my size. They promptly inform me that the display pair is the last one, and in fact they are the only store in Barbados (or whatever country I happen to be in) who carry that line, but would I like something else? I survey the rest of the shoes and find something else that will do as a second choice. Saleslady's eyes light up as she knows that they have this one in the back. She goes to the back for 10 minutes and comes back with 3 boxes in her hand (this is scary I only can wear one pair). They don't have 8 and a half, however they have the 7 and a half and the 9 and a half, would I like to try them? After convincing her that I am not going to buy the one that I have to squeeze my foot into like a sausage (but since my mom wears 7 and a half she tries it on and waggles her toe in front of her before putting it back in the box) nor will I buy the pair that look like clown shoes when i put them on because there's enough room in there for another person... I ask what's in the other box. Oh this isn't the same, but it's your size she says. I try on the ugly granny shoe she has brought, thinking that maybe it will actually look less horrendous on my foot - it doesn't, and it has no padding and no supprt. No thanks. And I walk out dejected.

Melissa pays for her stack of shoes, mom wants all the boxes please - for storing photographs, daddy sees for the first time that his shoes were twice what he planned to pay but mommy gets them for him anyway, since he's already been wearing them all over the store for half an hour and at any rate, it would be too embarassing to get his old ones out of the garbage, mom says she'll come back for one that looked nice when she waggled her toe, but m'liss has already included it in the stack to surprise her, i am dejected at having found the perfect shoe yet again but not in my size, and Warren happily carries the 6 bags containing Melissa's shoes.

That's how my family goes shoe shopping.