Foot Fetish

One thing I always look forward to while in Brazil is walking. My grandfather was a big believer in the benefits of walking for health and, since coming back here, I agree. I didn't realize how ridiculously out of shape I was until I tried to walk about 2 miles in my "comfy" sandals. Not only did I huff and puff and sweat the whole way but my feet looked like ground beef by the time I got home. Which made me wonder: with all the walking that Brazilians do, HOW are they so obsessed with uncomfortable shoes?

As most women will tell you, what you wear on your feet is extremely important. We make sacrifices of comfort every day for the sake of that sexy pointy-toe pump, that cute

strappy sandal or that modern ballet flat; after about fifty steps, each of those makes our feet cry out in pain. Luckily, we are a car-loving culture. We drive EVERYWHERE. To the corner store, to the kid's bus stop down the street and even to the mailbox. We hardly ever walk. So, wearing those awesome (yet excruciating) shoes isn't such a big deal.

Brazilian women, on the other hand, don't seem to have gotten the podiatry memo. I have never seen so many women in adorably horrifying shoe contraptions. I've seen women running to catch a city bus in broad

daylight (and in otherwise casual attire) with sparkly stilettos on. They wear heels everywhere: to the mall, to work, to the grocery store, to the post office...everywhere. Clearly, these women are masocistic. Or perhaps they simply can't feel their feet anymore. Either way, I can't keep up. Literally. I've tried to wear Brazilian shoes and walk the way Brazilian women do for as long as they do. And then I can't walk for two days after that. Yet another way in which I am so clearly a gringa (foreigner). It's truly a genetic miracle that these women are standing, walking at such a quick pace and still swinging their hips like pros without bursting into tears.

Perhaps the most mystifying aspect of the Brazilian female's shoe fetish a

re the surfaces they walk on. Rio is a big city with miles and miles of concrete, asphalt and the emblematic black and white cobblestone streets. However, street repairs are infrequent, uneven and, in many places, completely non-existent. Here comes the double-bonus challenge to all you lily-footed American girls, try walking on THIS in stilettos. I guarantee you'd die from a broken neck in 2 blocks...

This raises the obvious question-- WHY are Brazilian women so into shoes? Especially when Brazilian men seem truly not to care. At first glance, one would assume it's simply a love of shoes. There are shoe stores on almost every major street and the price of women's shoes is atrocious. It could only be love, right? Wrong. Brazilian women are exceedingly concerned with their appearance and shoes just happen to be one insanely illogically aspect of an over-arching (excuse the pun) beauty fanaticism.

I've often compared Rio to New York City and that is in many ways a fair comparison-- real estate prices are heavily inflated, population density is high and wages/costs are some of the highest in the country. However, Rio is more easily compared to Los Angeles in terms of beauty. It remains one of the top cities in the world for plastic surgery and other general expenditures on belleza (Portuguese for "beauty"). [Here are some stats to prove it: Beauty in Brazil.] Hair products, hair salons, nail salons and body waxing (most famously the "Brazilian bikini wax") are just a few of the requirements of Brazilian femininity. I've only been here a few days and my nails were so bad that a random woman at a restaurant literally suggested a good place to get a manicure! While getting the manicure, my manicurist repeatedly scolded me for letting my cuticles become such a "big mess" and joked how badly "in need" I was. There's definitely a tangible pressure here to be beautiful.

As I trudge home tonight with my shabby sneakers, baggy shorts and shaggy-short hair, I'm sure I'll see a few women sporting stylish ponytails and cute mini-backpacks while stepping out of a gym wearing...you guessed it...heels. Until next time...