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Shoes Off at the Door
A new rule for some, and a doozy of a chain of consequences
It began with the decision to keep my house a shoe-free zone.
Shoes-off-at-the door is a cultural custom of mine, one that’s hygienic and practical, but it’s not an Irish custom. I thought it would be an easy ask, until I was confronted by the blank looks of non-plussed Irish visitors.
Practical, not so practicable.
My council house is a bijou one-story semi-detached in a sprawling housing estate. In my tiny crowded hallway, bending to untie your laces and take your shoes off one-handed is like trying to summersault inside a box.
One handed, because the other is clutching objects like phone, fags, clipboard, or the corner of the bookshelf for balance. Then, where do you put those wet size 11’s and still manage to close the door? Meanwhile, your socks are soaking up muddy muck from the person who came in ahead of you, and the whole purpose is defeated.
Me, I wear slip-on shoes, maybe because I’m used to taking my shoes off at the door. I hadn’t foreseen the logistics for tight-laced, nor multiple visitors.
It’s a chicken-or-the-egg-first sort of question; choices of shoe-type aside, culture informs architecture, and architecture enables culture. Or…
