by Stephen Halpert
It was just after noon on Saturday and we were on our way out to the exquisite buffet lunch at Bauhinia when suddenly Tasha turned and looked down at my shoes. “You’re wearing bedroom slippers!”
“Au contraire.” I smiled. “These are soft shoes. There’s a considerable difference.”
She looked at them carefully. “They look like bedroom slippers to me. Why they even have sheepskin linings.”
I really didn’t want to go change my shoes. These were comfortable and we hadn’t planned on taking a ten mile hike. “Bedroom slippers have ultra thin soles and would wear out quickly if worn outside. These, on the other hand, provide better support plus a stronger sole that can endure sidewalks.”
She frowned as she backed out of the driveway. We turned onto Route 122. “Elderly men wear bedroom slippers out.” She said ignoring me.
“Furthermore I bought them in the Shoe Department not the Slipper Department. That alone should say a lot.”
“But they don’t have slipper departments,” she said firmly. “In all stores bedroom slippers are sold alongside shoes. How would you feel if I went out to lunch wearing my slippers?”
“You mean those pink things you wear to flop about the apartment?
“If that’s what you want to call them!” She smiled at me and nodded. “See, you wouldn’t like it at all.”
I looked down at my feet. “But these are fashionable. You see them advertised in European men’s magazines. Besides if whatever you wore were comfortable and you liked them, then what difference would it make?”
“A very big difference to how I would feel.”
“I’ve never understood women’s shoes, except to think that they seem over priced. At least you don’t wear six inch spike heels with weird straps.” We stopped for a light. Even though it felt chilly to me, kids were out wearing tee shirts and shorts.
“Psychologically they make a very big difference.” She persevered “I think one’s mental state is strongly influenced by what sort of shoes they’re wearing.”
“So you think I’m running the risk of becoming lackadaisical and ready to go to bed just because I’m wearing soft shoes?”
“No, but I do think wearing them might encourage other aspects of elderly behavior.” She put a lot of emphasis on the word elderly. “Who do you know who rides around town in bedroom slippers?”
I cleared my throat. The trees were budding, ah the allergy season! “Ernest Hemingway for one. When he wasn’t tramping about the globe in combat boots he’d wear elegant soft shoes made especially for him by some cobbler in Spain. Actually I got this idea from him.”
She turned and raised her eyebrows. “Hemingway wore bedroom slippers when he’d walk around Key West?”
“Please Tasha, try to understand that these aren’t bedroom slippers. What you must recognize is that there’s been a revolution in men’s footwear. These are soft, comfy shoes. They are a sign of elegance and sophistication. No doubt that first time he met Marlene Dietrich, Papa Hemingway was wearing swanky soft shoes and it was his signature choice in casual footwear that influenced her attraction to him.”
“Humph, and I suppose they had sheepskin linings?”
“Their letters to one another will soon be available by appointment at the Kennedy Library. He’d call her ‘my little kraut.’ And apparently there might have been some even more suggestive, torrid paragraphs.”
She sighed. “And I suppose you’ll wear them when you’re writing? Maybe as a way to invite the spirit of Hemingway to help you past split infinitives and run on sentences?”
“Good idea! I’ll have to try that. Usually I wear more traditional shoes when I’m writing, everyday less fashionable shoes that are more adaptable to the workplace.”
She drove into the parking lot and pulled up close to the door of the restaurant. Then she turned to me and giggled. “Since when do you try to conform to workplace dress standards?”
“I don’t.” I assured her. “But word processing especially requires tremendous foot support so that my ideas might flow more smoothly. Were I wearing these Hemingway sorts of soles I might start thinking of how wonderful it would be having Marline Dietrich as an intimate pen pal.” I opened the car door and stepped out.
Her smile was mischievous. “Didn’t Hemingway usually stand up while he was typing? And wouldn’t standing that way require better foot support? In which case maybe he reserved his bedroom slippers for more casual relaxing times.” Tasha got out and we headed for the restaurant.
It was early. We headed toward our favorite booth waiting for us by the window. The buffet hadn’t opened yet. “Please stop calling them bedroom slippers and recognize them simply as casual European foot attire. And I’m really sorry that men’s soft shoes are more fashionable than those things women wear when they pad about the house.”
At that moment I wasn’t thinking of what was on my feet but rather whether I’d go for sushi, or egg rolls and hot and sour soup.
She looked me over the menu. “We do have our differences of opinion. Now, how would you feel if the next time we go out to eat I wear my bathrobe and slippers?”
A server brought us glasses of water and departed.
I smiled. “Only if it was a silk negligee and the sort of sexy slippers Marlene might have worn.”
“Oh no,” she said. “She wore flat ballet shoes. I’m talking about my everyday fuzzy pink flops that are in the bedroom.”
“In which case I’d start thinking of you as my little kraut.”
The FunnyWrite Zone 