Mid-August...seems about the right time to redouble my bitching regarding the heat, humidity, and general sticky-icky-ness that is becoming more insufferable every day (I know, I know...I'm a grouch...and I'll be regretting my words during those long, cold, winter nights...but...right now...with the thermometer in the 90's...I'm feeling snarky). Today's bout of Scrooge-ish bah-humbug-ness came about after catching sight of what I can only refer to as "hot 70's librarian boots" from Stella McCartney...

[Internal monologue] "Ooh...leather...leopard...studs...entirely summer friendly..."

[Voice of realism] "You have a couple of pairs of perfectly delightful sandals that you rarely wear...you idiot"

Hmmm...guess I'll just ponder their beauty from afar then...

Given the negative associations of most fashion contractions...jeggings anyone?...I'm hesitant to mention the melding of espadrille and sneaker in case it becomes tainted and referred to as the espaker or sneadrille...a definite downgrade to what is, in reality, a very refined little shoe.

Given my inherent klutziness, this 4" high tribute to Alexander McQueen's Armadillo shoe (one of the tchotchkes that The Met has had made for the Savage Beauty exhibition) could be my ideal form of shoe shopping...easy on the pocketbook...the feet...and the eye...

You find me now, deep in the throes of a "Goldilocks moment"...having taken her "too hard, too soft, just right" bed manifesto to heart...and applied it to hi-top sneakers. Pierre Hardy started it...with a style whose piping echoed that of his bags...but they were too expensive and, at the time, just too hard to find. Then came Isabel Marant...whose shoes were beautiful but, with a 3" internal heel, too high for a klutz like me.

My "just right" came courtesy of Marc by Marc Jacobs...khaki canvas...black leather...dressier than a sneaker...a comfortably cool option for pounding the summer streets...

At this point I really can't decide if Moda Operandi...the online trunk-show-format retail venture conceived by Vogue contributing editor Lauren Santo Domingo and ex–Gilt Grouper Aslaug Magnusdottir...is a sign of things to come...or just an extraordinarily bad idea.

The photography is good...detailed close-ups that really allow you get a feel for the fabric...free worldwide shipping...and stylists available 24/7 via phone or email (though I dare anyone to try calling at 3am to get an opinion on a dress).

BUT (big, fully capitalized, "but")...there are so many things to turn the prospective purchaser off...only a few days to make a decision...once that decision is made (not easy given the expense of most of the things on the site), you pay 50% of the total amount, then see nothing for months...and a VERY (oh dear, there's a lot of capitalization today) stringent return policy...returns on apparel and footwear only and, even then, only for a store credit. If the handbag/jewelry/watch/wallet/or myriad of other paraphernalia that you purchased doesn't live up to expectations, you're stuck with it.

BUT #2...there are some truly lovely pieces on the site. These suede boots from Parisienne designer Laurence Dacade literally left me staring at my screen...despite the ludicrous idea of buying extremely expensive suede boots to trot around in during the wet and dreary winter months...AND...my acknowledged inability to manoeuvre in any heel higher than an inch.

Such was the madness that they induced I found myself browsing for other Dacade designs from this season...only to fall in love with an equally unwearable (from my perspective) pair in studded grey suede...going so far as to put together prospective outfits utilizing them...

Who knew that the old gents who go out to feed the squirrels and pigeons dressed in a Hawaiian shirt (with matching knee-length shorts)...ankle socks...and loafers...were trend setters? Or, that for a mere $750 the man in your life could follow suit with a pair of sandal sneakers from Dior Homme...

Coming soon...the designer bag of slightly moldy bread...and a phrase book of "Conversational guidelines for the woodland creature you regularly dine with."

There's nothing like a hint of spring to send you dashing madly towards the shoe department in search of something a little lighter than the boots you've stomped around in all winter. As this seems...at least in terms of the majority of summer related purchases that I've made thus far...to be a "two-tone, trimmed with leather" kind of year...it's probably fitting that the shoes in question should follow along...in a pleather-y, "I could say I'm doing it to be green but they're just cheap shoes" kind of way...

I'm on the fence. I can't decide if Nike's Terminator Hi (with cutout Swoosh) are a) the ugliest sneakers I've ever seen...or...b) a cool, comfortable, summer footwear option.

Thoughts? Opinions? Derisive comments about the state of my sanity?

Chalk these up as another entry to be placed in the "My God, if only I could walk/stand/move in heels" file. Balenciaga...on sale...in the sort of brown that always makes me think of Chloé handbags during the Phoebe Philo years...atop 4.1 inches of terror (and wobble) inducing spike...

You never truly appreciate what you have in life...until you no longer have it. A sentiment which could be terribly deep and profound, unless you happen to be talking about ballet flats...which, and at this point I hang my head in shame, I am.

Yet I have to admit that I've been finding it more than a little depressing that, pre-bone-spur-and-walking-cast, I could be found in ballet flats 80% of the time...while post-b-s-a-w-c my footwear choices have been limited to ankle boots or Converse hi-tops. In winter, it wasn't really a problem...but with spring approaching (admittedly currently a blip on the distant horizon) the time had come to get serious about finding a non-ballet flat. Enter the gladi-ballet...lovechild of the ballet flat and gladiator with a hint of S&M and a dash of ladylike polish (the latter, mainly due to the very demure color...a change from my usual black). At the moment, until some significant walking has taken place, I can only say that I'm quietly optimistic...

Like warring factions whose relations are destined to be less than chummy, historically cold weather boots (at least the ones that I've been attracted to) have fallen into two distinct categories...a) the rain boot that keeps your foot dry as a bone yet requires two pairs of socks to avoid hypothermia...or...b) the boots that are blissfully warm but spring a leak when they come into even the briefest contact with rain, snow, or (heaven forbid) the couple of inches of slush that seem to cover the ground for a minimum of two months each winter. With the buffalo plaid version of Sperry's shearwater boot though I think all my bases may finally be covered...thanks to the combination of rubber soles and shearling lining...of course, the cute black and red check doesn't hurt anything either.

Gratuitous shoe porn post of the day...actually, make that doubly gratuitous...for even if the day came when spending $1,000 on a pair of shoes seemed like a feasible/good idea, I am safe in the knowledge that I still wouldn't be able to stand/walk/balance/move (take your pick from any/all of the above) in 4.5 inch heels. Having said that, these be-spatted Balenciaga beauties are perfect for a little idle pondering...

Especially when the most recent foot-related purchase to cause a fluttering in the Hebden heartstrings was a balance board...yes, these are the depths that I am currently wallowing in...where a lump of molded plastic (albeit one that offers relief from my podiatric problems) is preferable to Balenciaga...

The conversation went a little something a little like this...

Physiotherapist: "These shoes would be perfect for you, they have rigid soles."

Self - trying not to recoil from the full orthopedic horror of the image in front of me: "Ah..."

(Followed quickly...in the hope of finding the silver lining in a very dark cloud..and having a valid excuse to purchase those shearling clog boots)

"...how about shoes with wooden soles? They're firm."

Physiotherapist: "No...they're too firm."

I am, officially, a footwear Goldilocks...the soles of shoes are now viewed as...not firm...too firm...and just right. The shame of it all is that "just right" also appears to be hideously ugly.

You probably have to be slightly more houseproud...or addicted to Swiffer...than I am to be able to view Tom Scott's hairy slippers as anything other than a step-child of Elmo who is destined to be covered in dust bunnies within about 10 seconds of wearing. Having said that, aren't they cute?

Given that I have only just been released from my walking cast...and that even with this new found "freedom" I need to be more practical in my footwear choices...the following is mere shoe porn for me to ponder during long winter nights (though what could be more fitting for cold weather reverie than shearling boots?)

Yes, it's time to torture myself again by writing about shoes that I can't wear today...and am beginning to seriously doubt will ever be able to wear in the future. I kid, slightly, the interminable road of convalescence that I see spreading before me is obviously starting to take its toll...clearly I need to get mean...something that would be easy in these metal toe-capped little numbers. Mean...yet ladylike...like a perfectly coiffed little old lady wielding an umbrella...or a snake wearing L'Air du Temps...

If you're a frequent...or even semi-frequent...visitor to this blog you will know that I have a slight addiction to tracking down rubber footwear. It's not a fetish...just the knowledge gained from a childhood spent in a very water-logged part of Scotland that walking around all day with damp feet makes you miserable. The latest bits of rubbery goodness to float into my field of vision are these lace up booties from Loeffler Randall. Certainly worth splashing out on...sorry...I love a pun almost as much as I love rain boots...

The fact that they exist for all of us...those items for which we conceive a wholly irrational dislike...despite the other 99.9% of the population finding them totally acceptable...is no help whatsoever. The fact that they affect you that way is enough...especially if you find yourself in the situation of being forced to buy them.

My own nemesis is the sneaker...not being of an athletic temperament I haven't owned a pair since childhood...something that I was fine with as, on my foot, they've always reminded me of the "special" child in class (the one that collects bits of old radios and sits by themselves for no determinable reason). Yet, the time had come where...according to my podiatrist...I had to buy a pair.

Cursing foot injuries in general...and my own particular complaint in particular...prescription firmly clutched in hand...and sure in the knowledge that if I ever want to be rid of this walking cast certain concessions must be made...I entered New Balance...only to be confronted with the slightly sexist reality that if I were a man I could choose from retro greens, browns, blues, and oranges...while as a woman I had to vocally stand my ground to avoid pale pinks and greys.

Thankfully I was able to find one pair that were predominantly black...equally thankfully Mr. Heb is a man of his word who blocked my escape route so that I was forced to concede to the inevitable and make a purchase. While I can't say I love them...it could have been worse...

When you have one foot, and the better part of a leg, entombed in a walking cast you should not waste time window shopping at footwear...especially when the footwear in question features 4 inch heels that you know perfectly well you couldn't walk in with two good feet and a sherpa holding onto each arm...

I'm not even going to go into the whole Tyrolean secretary vibe emanating from every suede and tasseled pore...