R.I.P. Moira Shearer! My Search for Red Shoes

LAURIE: Having recently tried on my (red) wedding dress for the first time since July, I am happy to report that it still fits, perhaps even better than it fit on the day that I bought it. This is a huge relief, although now it means that I have to buckle down and deal with the next circle of hell: accessories.

The other day after work I walked down that corridor of lower Fifth Avenue that’s lousy with “better” retail names everyone recognizes from the malls of their suburban youth (plus a brand-new H&M store), thinking that I might just luck into my wedding accessories the way I lucked into my dress.

Red shoes are going to be a challenge. All the red shoes I saw fell into two categories: stripper shoes in shiny patent leather, with at least three inches of rickety heel, or smarmy, bow-bedecked flats with a negative arch. I should know better than to express opinions about fashion, since my fantasy wardrobe would come from a janitor’s uniform catalog, supplemented by bathrobes, but WTF with the Reagan-era shoe styles? Ditto the cheap-looking plastic necklaces and earrings in primary colors, the kind of shit you wouldn’t even sell at a garage sale in 1991.


I’m Andy Rooney, and I clearly cannot rely on mass-produced retail for my wedding needs.

R.I.P. Moira Shearer! My Search for Red Shoes