A letter about everyday comfort

At 68, I had started leaving places early because of my sandals. My daughter noticed before I did.

There was a time when I could go out on a Saturday with my handbag, my keys and whatever shoes were nearest the door. I didn't think about my feet. I certainly didn't plan an outing around them.

Somewhere in my sixties, that changed. Not dramatically. There was no great moment when I decided I couldn't manage a morning at the markets. I just began suggesting we have coffee closer to the car. I stopped walking down the last row of stalls. And I became very good at saying, “Oh, I've seen enough for today.”

My daughter Kate knew better. One spring Saturday in Fremantle, I said it again while we were still only halfway through. She looked down at me tugging at the strap across my foot and asked a question I couldn't quite answer.

“Mum, are you tired of shopping, or are you tired of fixing your shoes?”

It was a perfectly ordinary thing to say. But I remember looking at that sandal, with its buckle sitting between the hole that pinched and the hole that let my foot slide, and feeling rather foolish. I'd been blaming myself for outings I wasn't enjoying. Perhaps the shoes were simply wrong.

I am writing this because if you are past 65 and have quietly begun making little compromises like that, you may recognise the feeling. It isn't always about wanting to go less. Sometimes it's about being tired of what you have to put on your feet to get there.

How a short outing became an early trip home

I have never wanted fashionable shoes at the expense of everything else. I like a neat black sandal because it goes with my navy trousers, my cotton dresses and practically every other thing in the wardrobe. That's enough fashion for me.

But every pair I tried seemed to have one of two problems. The loose ones slipped at the heel, so I caught myself gripping with my toes. The secure ones held so tightly across the front that, by afternoon, I was looking for somewhere to sit and fiddle with a buckle.

My feet aren't quite the same shape they were twenty years ago. Some days one feels a little fuller than the other. And on a warm Perth afternoon, the fit that seemed perfectly reasonable at breakfast can feel different after lunch. I used to think I simply had awkward feet.

Kate's answer was that perhaps I had been buying shoes that expected my feet to stay exactly the same all day.

What I had wrong about a good fit

I thought a sandal either fitted when you bought it or it didn't. You found the closest buckle hole, fastened it and hoped for the best. That was how I had bought them for decades.

Then Kate showed me something I hadn't paid much attention to: a sandal with separate adjustable closures at the front and around the foot. Not a row of little buckle holes. Straps you could loosen or tighten to where you actually needed them.

That distinction sounds too small to matter until you think about how often a foot is wider at the front than it is at the heel. With one fixed fitting, you end up choosing which part gets to be comfortable. With separate adjustments, you can give each part the room it needs.

And you can change your mind in the afternoon without taking the whole sandal off.

That was when I stopped looking for the cleverest shoe and started looking for one I could adjust myself, standing in my own hallway, without an argument.

The pair is called Selina

Kate found them at Perth Boutique. The name is Selina, and I chose black because I know myself. A brightly coloured pair might look lovely on someone else; I wanted the pair I'd reach for before going to the chemist, having lunch with a friend or getting into the car for a Sunday drive.

They have broad black straps, an open-toe design, a shaped tan footbed and a low black sole. The front and the upper fastening adjust separately, with a strap around the heel to help keep the sandal in place. Nothing towering, nothing with a fiddly little buckle to line up.

I particularly liked that the front strap wasn't a thin strip pressing along one narrow line. It covers more of the foot, while leaving the sides open. I didn't need the shoes to look technical. I just wanted them to look like normal sandals.

What changed on the next Saturday

Our next outing wasn't anything special. Kate wanted a few things from the markets, and I wanted a pot of herbs for the back step. We parked, walked through the first stalls, stopped for coffee and wandered a little longer.

Before we left the house, I adjusted the two parts of the sandals separately. Not tightly. Just enough to feel held, with room over the front of my foot. Later in the day, when it was warmer, I could loosen the front fastening a touch instead of pretending the pinching wasn't happening.

The best part wasn't a dramatic transformation. It was not having that little conversation with myself every ten minutes: Is there a bench? Should we turn back? How far is the car?

Kate asked whether I was ready to go, and I told her I wanted to look at the plants on the other side first. She laughed. I hadn't said that in a while.

I still take breaks when I want them. Of course I do. I'm 68, not pretending to be 28. But I like the difference between sitting because you've found a nice spot for a coffee and sitting because your sandals have made the decision for you.

A little trip down by the water

A fortnight later we went for lunch near the coast. I wore linen trousers, a striped top and the same black sandals. I had considered taking an extra pair in the car, out of habit, and left them at home.

We didn't spend the day doing anything heroic. We walked a little, sat with our lunch, and went slowly enough to notice how lovely the spring weather was. I was not trying to prove anything to anyone. I was simply enjoying being out.

That might not sound like a great story. But after a couple of years of quietly cutting outings short, an unremarkable afternoon is exactly what I wanted back.

Three things I think matter after 65

One. Being able to adjust a shoe is different from buying one that merely fits on Tuesday morning. Feet can feel different after hours of walking or in warmer weather. I now look for a fastening I can actually change when I need to.

Two. A back strap makes a difference to how secure a sandal feels. I don't like a sandal that seems to be left behind every time I lift my heel. Selina has a strap at the back as well as the broad bands at the front.

Three. It needs to go with what I already own. I have no interest in building a new wardrobe around one pair of shoes. Black works with my dresses, trousers and the things I wear every week. That is why I chose it.

About the price, because I checked twice

I am a careful shopper. If something costs very little, I wonder what I'm missing. If it costs a fortune, I wonder whether the price is paying for a fancy name.

When I looked, the Selina was listed for $64.99 AUD, reduced from a displayed comparison price of $218.00. It seemed like a large reduction, so I spent some time checking the details rather than ordering on the spot.

Perth Boutique lists free delivery in Australia and a 30-day money-back guarantee. The size options on the product page run from AU 3.5 to AU 9, with a guide showing the corresponding foot lengths in centimetres. I would check that chart before choosing, especially if you're between sizes.

I can't tell you how a sandal will fit your particular foot. Nobody can know that from a story on a page. But I can tell you why the design caught my attention: the independent adjustments, the broad straps and the fact that it still looks like a perfectly ordinary black sandal.

What I would tell you over a cup of tea

If we were sitting at my kitchen table and you told me you had stopped enjoying the little trips you used to look forward to, I wouldn't tell you to buy every new comfort shoe you see advertised. I'd ask you one thing first.

Are you choosing to come home, or are your shoes making the choice for you?

For me, the most useful change was looking for adjustability rather than promising myself the next fixed pair would somehow be different. The Selina is the kind of sandal worth considering if that sounds familiar. Have a look at the photographs, check your foot length against the guide and see whether the fastening style suits you.

There is no need to pretend we're still twenty-five. There is also no reason a pair of straps should decide how much of a lovely Perth afternoon we get to enjoy.

I still leave the markets when I'm ready. I just prefer that to be my decision.

Maggie