"Jean, you've got your slippers on." "I know," she said, and got in the car.
Four pairs of shoes by one back door, and the morning it stopped being funny.
Diane Pelletier · Customer · Ottawa, Ontario · 5 min readGo and count the shoes by your back door. There were four pairs by mine. The rubber boots were cold to put on. The runners had laces, and I do not bend for laces before breakfast. The clogs let the wet in. The walking shoes were for walking, and I was only taking out the garbage.
So every morning I did the same little dance on the mat. Slippers off, clogs on, out with the garbage. Clogs off, slippers on, kettle on. Slippers off again for the clothesline. Some mornings I looked at the bird feeder, looked at my feet, and left the birds to it.
Then came the Tuesday I could not be bothered.
The morning at the corner store
We had run out of milk and it was only across the road, so I went as I was. I was third in line when the cold came up through my left foot and I looked down. Plaid slippers, gone dark at the toes, with a wet maple leaf stuck to one of them.
The girl at the cash looked too. "Didn't have far to come, did you?" she said. She was being kind, which was worse.
I walked home the back way. I am 63. I put lipstick on for the dentist. And I stood at that curb with a bag of milk thinking: so this is how it starts.
Two days later, I saw what Jean had on her feet.
What Jean did next
Jean next door irons her tea towels. That Thursday I was hanging sheets on the line when she came down her walk with the car keys, in soft tan things with a rim of white fleece showing at the ankle.
"Jean, you've got your slippers on."
"I know," she said, and got in the car.
She let me stew until Saturday. Then she came to the fence, lifted one foot and turned it over. Underneath was a thick, ridged sole, the kind you would see on a walking shoe.
"A slipper's only trouble is underneath," she said. "So they gave it a proper bottom. The Sybil. Sylvie & Odette."
I ordered that evening. When they came, I very nearly sent them back.
"You silly woman, you've bought slippers"
I stood at the hall mirror in them. Fleece at the ankle, soft as anything. Everything in me said slippers, and slippers were what had put me in that lineup. I put them back in the box and left it by the front door to go back on Monday.
But Sue and I were going to the garden centre that Saturday. Once they had been outdoors there would be no sending them back, and I stood looking at that box for some time. I am glad I took them out again, or I would never have heard what she said.
What Sue said at the garden centre
Saturday morning I slid my feet in at the back door, hooked a finger through the little tab at the heel, and that was that. No bending. Garbage. Clothesline. Down the back steps with the leaves stuck to them, and I felt the ridges take hold. Bird feeder. Car.
In line at the cash, the woman behind me leaned around her cart. "Excuse me, where are those from?" Two more asked before I had paid for my tulip bulbs.
Over tea, Sue looked under the table at my feet and then up at me.
"You've made an effort," she said. "What's the occasion?"
I have decided to take that as a compliment.
Home, kettle, feet up on the stool, in the same shoes I had taken the garbage out in. The box went in the recycling.
The same lineup, six weeks later
Seven in the morning on the kitchen tiles, the fleece is around my toes before the kettle has boiled. The laundry basket goes on one hip, my feet go in, and I am out the door. The birds have never been so well fed.
They are not snow boots. I would not shovel the driveway in them. For everything between my back door and the garden centre, they do it all.
Last week we ran out of milk again. Same store, same lineup, same girl at the cash. I looked down: stitched moccasin toe, tan suede-look, and they looked like a smart pair of shoes.
She looked at my face. "Morning," she said.
The Sybil vs. the pile by my door
- Rubber boots, cold to put on
- Runners, with laces to bend for
- Clogs that let the wet in
- Walking shoes, for a trip to the garbage
- Slippers, with a leaf stuck on, at the cash
- Fleece around my toes on the kitchen tiles
- Slip on with the heel tab, no bending
- Ridged sole on the wet back steps
- Kitchen to garden centre in one pair
- "Morning," from the girl at the cash
The bit I got wrong
I assumed a pair that does two jobs would cost twice as much.
The Sybil is $54.95 CAD.Was $99.95 CAD
That is the fall sale price, with free shipping across Canada. One price for the pair that sends the other four to the shed.
Just over 300 women have reviewed them, at 4.2 stars. I like that it is not a suspiciously perfect five. One of them wrote:
"I have cleared three pairs of shoes away from my back door. These do the lot."
From the Sybil reviewsThey come in tan, oatmeal, grey and black, from EU 36 to 43. Try them on indoors first. If they are not for you, you have 30 days to send them back unworn.
If you were my neighbour
I would lean over the fence, the way Jean did, and turn up one foot.
Then I would ask how many pairs you counted.
The back steps are cold and wet every morning now, and the sale price only lasts while the stock does.
Diane Pelletier
See if your size is in the saleDiane Pelletier is 63 and lives in Ottawa, Ontario. She is a customer, not a fashion writer, and she was not paid to write this letter.
The Sybil Fleece-Lined Booties
★★★★☆ 4.2 out of 5 from 300+ reviews
$54.95 CAD$99.95 CAD
- Plush fleece lining, with a soft white rim at the ankle
- Chunky, ridged sole with grip
- Slip-on with a heel pull tab: no laces, no zips, no bending
- Suede-look upper with moccasin stitching
- Tan, oatmeal, grey and black, EU 36 to 43
- Free shipping across Canada, and 30 days to return them unworn
Fall sale price, while stock lasts.
This page is an advertisement for Sylvie & Odette. Free shipping across Canada · 30-day returns on unworn items.