Well, they aren't blue suede. They're actually a midnight Gore-Tex(R). But I'm just so happy to find footwear that slipped onto my feet and didn't pinch, pull, grab, or stab me. They just sat on my feet and let me move around without thinking. So I bought three pairs: One lamb's wool-lined pair of leather boots (not pictured), one pair of bootlets and one pair of slip-on shoes (excellent for going through airport security).
Yoga involves the whole body and lately, with the power yoga class I've been taking, my feet have been getting a lot of extra attention: They are bare, their position is important in getting the poses right, they cramp and protest at being moved into possible but unfamiliar positions, and my yoga instructor will grab them in order to adjust a pose. So suddenly my feet have taken on an importance they haven't had before. I look at the shoe-caused crookedness of my toes and feel a bit sorry for what I've put my feet through in the name of Western, female fashion.
My new purchases have roomy, square toes though they wouldn't accommodate a naturally shaped foot, one never squeezed into footwear. There is some consolation that this is not a new phenomenon; older anatomy drawings show misshapen feet (a little toe bent in towards the other toes and sometimes the big toe, too, making the foot look tapered) because people simply don't know what a normal adult foot should look like. Shoes have been worn for centuries, and shoe fashions have been crazy a good number of times.
Maybe I'll take a picture of my yoga instructor's feet. She can splay the toes like fingers, and she has little tattoos on some of the toes. Pretty feet. Feet as God intended.
But I do like my new footwear.