Michelle Blanchard Ardillo

Full disclosure: I used to love shoes. I adored ballet flats and had them in many, many colors. I had cute Keds sneakers in multiple colors. Working as a clown for a balloon delivery service, I had high-top Chuck’s in red and yellow so I could wear one on each foot with alternating socks to match. As a young twenty-something, I had Candie’s high heel mules in the colors of the rainbow!

Fresh out of college, I still can’t believe I ever worked 8-10 hours a day in a law office in those shoes, and then went out to dinner, maybe dancing at a club, and finally home in the wee hours of the morning.

And, then, I got older, and I began to experience problems with my feet. When my daughters were in elementary school, I developed plantar fasciitis and was “prescribed” the wearing of New Balance 800 series shoes 24/7 for 180 days (meaning except when showering or sleeping). This was back in the day when women still wore dressy clothes to work including pantyhose. I was mortified but dressed up for work as usual including pantyhose and then white ankle socks and my NB shoes.

It worked, but only temporarily, and after that came a cortisone shot in the heel, steroids, wraps, P/T sessions with heat and cold treatments, and eventually, I figured out that there were only a handful of shoes I could wear without aggravating this never-to-be cured condition.

My shoe collection now includes rather expensive (for me) Naot Mary Jane-style shoes, Romika slides, and Taos sandals. I can get away with Clark’s occasionally, and Aerosole sometimes, but basically, my days of cute, trendy shoes (i.e. cheap) are behind me. If I don’t go barefoot (ever), or wear something stupid (but adorable), and do my stretching exercises in the shower each morning (toes against the tile wall of the shower bending slightly at the knee until I feel the gentle pull up the back of my leg and Achilles), I am mostly okay.

Still, when I saw the title A Shoe Story by Jane L. Rosen (Berkley, 2022), and its adorable cover, I felt a tug at my heartstrings.

Each chapter is numbered and, as a nod to the title, below the chapter number is the name of a pair of designer shoes, for example, Chapter Six: The Baby-Blue Satin Jimmy Choo Slingback Pumps.

I must be honest. I don’t know much about haute couture, but I am somewhat familiar with the big names like Jimmy Choo, Chanel, Steve Madden, and of course, the red-bottomed shoes by Christian Louboutin. Intrigued with how much the designer shoes played a part in the plot line of the novel, I stepped in with both feet. (Pun intended.)

It’s safe to say that Esme Nash has had a rough time. She has to sacrifice everything she has worked so hard for to do what she knows deep down inside is the right thing. Easy, no. The repercussions of what she has given up weigh heavily upon her young shoulders.

Once her oh-so-adult responsibilities are over, while still sad and grieving, Esme takes a job pet-sitting for a wealthy female lawyer in NYC, and here is where the chapter subtitles come into play. Catherine has a shoe obsession, and has the closet to prove it. And, wonders never cease, all of these designer shoes are in Esme’s exact size!

This was a quick read for me. I’m traveling right now, and managed to read it in small chunks in one week each night before going to sleep. I liked the premise, and I liked most of the characters, especially Elvis the dog, and Sy, the former owner of Katz Deli, but it wasn’t quite a 5-star read for me. I had some issues with Esme’s attempts to restart her life where she had abruptly put it on hold eight years earlier. Her choices in the present day of the story were not as mature as the choices she made just a week before her graduation from college. I’m not saying that’s her fault, her personal growth was all but put on hold while putting family first. But, because I still felt like it was a good read for me, and I adored the way Rosen tied up Sy’s part of the story so sweetly, it’s 4 stars for Esme and her love of beautiful shoes.