The oversized shoes in the checkerboard pattern stood out like the proverbial sore thumb among the drab human foot-sized shoes. The toe was as large and round as the moon, and the heel a slender curve.
Any child could see that these were clown shoes, still bearing the maker’s tag, looking totally unworn.
The shoes brought a smile to my face as the pair sat on a table in a long row of items under a covered space outside the auction house. The row held boxes of items on tables and under tables – office supplies, Christmas decorations, folding chairs and a whole lot more stuff for which I had no use.
Nearby, I had spied a long heavy box containing a deck or patio umbrella with a curved metal pole. In fact there were two of them, one out of the box but missing its metal base. The Pottery Barn umbrella that I’d pull out every summer for the last 10 years broke in half last year, so I was in the market for a new one. Unfortunately, the incomplete one at auction didn’t work, and I wasn’t sure how to lug the heavy one home.
Seeing the clown shoes softened that disappointment. I didn’t recall finding any at auction before, although I’d come across clowns as miniature figurines and as fearsome objects.
Someone had perhaps bought the clown shoes for a child’s birthday party, but had never gotten around to trying them out. The pair still had a price tag of $22.99, No Refund, purchased from a company called Lynch’s.
Searching the web, I found a pair of checkerboard clown shoes, offered by a company that makes them to your specification (for a nifty price). This particular style was called “full length lollipop 3-color.” There were other styles to choose from, depending on the image you wanted to project: Mary Janes, which I thought were rather cute in their bigness; businessman wingtips, tramps, saddle shoes, Dockers, sneakers, boots and street shoes.
They even make jester shoes, the footwear of court entertainers whose job centuries ago was to clown around and make people laugh.
This company made clown shoes out of real cowhide leather, and I could find only one other company on the web like it. The other made shoes for Ringling Brothers clowns for years, but it was hard to tell if it was still in business.
Another company on the web sold “leatherette” clown shoes, along with all the supplies you need to make yourself up as a clown, for both beginners and professionals: makeup (pencils, eyeliner, lipstick), 54-inch shoelaces, noses (full and tips), wigs, socks, hats (flying pigs and Uncle Sam), props (giant bandages and thermometers), magic tricks and balloons for twisting into animal shapes.
Its shoes were not custom-made leather shoes, so the prices were closer to the price of the auction shoes. You can apparently wear your own shoes inside or several pairs of thick socks.
I hope these outlandishly large shoes make you smile as they did me.
