When I was taking Prof. B_______'s History of EducaZZZZzzzzzz-uhn class, the one interesting lecture he gave was on Appropriate Dress for A Woman Teaching High School.
"No dresses, they'll show your legs," he droned. "Nothing below your clavicle. No heels. No pantsuits."
"Oh come on!" we cried, "No pantsuits? Why?"
"Suits only accent a woman's femininity. Oh, and don't wear your hair up in a bun, either."
Then, I went to teach in the adult sector, and I got to wear suits with skirts and heels. That was fun the first ten years, then our dress code relaxed. Just to be companionable, my abdominal muscles relaxed as well. Then my feet said, "Hey, is there a party?" and we put on our Clarks with many festive socks.
Now that I am catering to the needs of my new job (TeddyJ), my dress has changed again. Evidently, TeddyJ likes me to wear pantsuits and stylin' shoes. The pantsuits were easy, but the stylin' shoes are a little more difficult. I can take them for half a day, but a full day in even semi-stylin' shoes make my feet hurt. I notice it most on the hike across the parking lot.
Mom suggested I wear comfy shoes in to work, change at my desk, then change back when I leave. I suppose Mom does not remember the Horrific Shoe Incident of '92.
The Horrific Shoe Incident of '92
During some of the years I worked in heels and suits for my old job (whom I like to call Elliot), I was stationed off-site at Ralston-Purina. R-P is located across the street from the projects. I had two parking options: hike two city blocks across the parking lot, or park by the projects right across the street. I always grabbed my dress shoes and just crossed the street from the hood.
One day, I was walking back to my car after work and I thought, "I don't remember leaving my window down," and then, "Huh. I don't remember leaving a brick on my front seat," and then, "AUUGH! Where are all my shoes!"
Because the one flaw in the comfy shoe / dress shoe switch scheme is that it assumes when you get home you take the dress shoes back inside to the closet with you. Or, OR, you can demonstrate efficiency and logic like a good programmer and leave them in the car, because you'd probably be wearing those shoes tomorrow, especially your one pair of black shoes. Or brown. Or red. Or navy. Or green. Or beige. Or blue with tassels. Or strappy red ones. Then soon your entire shoe collection is in your car next door to the projects, and someone trades you a brick for all your shoes. All you have left are the strappy red ones that match only the shirt on your back.
When I explained the situation to my contact at Ralston, her response was to laugh heartily and ask "ALL your shoes were in the car?" The same laugh and question was echoed by the insurance guy and the police officer and the project manager at "Elliot."
I had to buy a pair of $20 black plastic shoes at Payless to wear while I built up my shoe wardrobe again. Perhaps there's a Mini-Cooper locking shoe storage accessory.