Boots or Hearts

In A Philosophy of Boredom, Lars Svendsen cites Karl Rosenkranz's notion that, in contrast to ugliness which he equates with boredom, "the beautiful allows us to forget time, because as something eternal and self-sufficient, it also transports us to eternity and thus fills us with bliss" (94). The same could be said of shoes. Sure, most of us, myself included, would be quick to defend our footwear as being practical, comfortable, and affordable but I argue that out of everything we clothe ourselves in, our shoes are most closely tied to our personal identity. When I worked in retail I was told that to spot a thief, I need only look at his feet. In India, the status of a person is conveyed by their shoes. When entering a home, people remove their shoes to impose a leveling of status. In the game of attraction, a man's "shoe size" gives a girl a hint, however untrue, to the size of his member. In literature, Cinderella and Estrogon find their identities linked closely to footwear. Seeking his true love, the charming prince uses a glass slipper to identify her though one would think facial recognition would have been simpler. In Waiting for Godot, Estragon's boots could be interpreted as a metaphor for his existence. The boots are confining, painful, and rank. When he finally manages to pry them off, Estragon searches around inside them and declares "Nothing [...] There's nothing to show" (4). His life is empty and meaningless.
The foot plods, paces, taps in impatience, and goes nowhere on treadmills. Could the repetition of our step be our most boring movement? Yet the feet can dance, are fetishized, and move at a speed that enables us to take in the world's minutiae. Perhaps we clothe our toes in pleasing styles to create the beauty that "allows us to forget time" and enhances our lackluster indenties. Though I hesitate when I recall the lyrics of Gord Downey: "Boots or hearts, oh when they start, they really fall apart."