In just a few weeks I am taking my girls to Paris for the first time. As you can see, we’ve been planning for this trip for years. 

Anyway, it’s not like I go to Paris all the time or anything; I did a semester at the Sorbonne in 1989 and I’ve been back twice. Perhaps that’s why I’ve deemed everything I ever purchased there so goddamned special.

These Mrs. Roper shoes are no exception.

I think I thought that because I bought them in Paris, they must be timeless and chic, like a Chanel suit or a crisp white button down or a pair of sleek black capris.


It turns out I was wrong. I know this because I have eyes, and also anytime I take them out, I get the “OH GOD PLEASE NO” look my kids are determined to make famous. Can’t you just see them with a fabulous, flowy caftan and a chunky choker necklace? I bet you can.

In these shoes’ defense, I actually do have Fred Flintstone feet, so nobody’s pointing any (fat, square) fingers here. If you need them, they’ll be in the Hallween tub!