Now I'm not a big fan of feet - as my mother can attest to. For me, the thought of touching another person's bare foot is the equivalent of running nails down a chalkboard. My poor mom had to beg and plead when I was young just to get me to massage even a toe. But hey, if someone wants to touch my feet, I'm all for that. Give me a little foot massage, and I'll turn into a drooling, slobbering puppy. I'm putty in  your hands. But that's a story for another time. Back to feet in Paris.

Despite the constant rain showers each day, Parisian women are bringing their open toed stilettos, strappy sandals, and flimsy (yet classy of course) thongs out of the closet. All manner of footwear can be seen walking down the streets of Paris. Each pair of shoes is thoughtfully chosen to match a perfectly put together outfit. I'd swear that sometimes women here by clothes to go with their shoes, rather than the other way round. When it comes to dressing up, Parisian women are the most artful in the world.

Except for their feet. I'm rather surprised at how little attention women are paying to their feet. Toenails aren't cut, calluses bulge out from the sides, corns have gone astray, and even (horror of horrors) a few incidents of nail fungus. Parisian women are famous for buying creams, masks, makeup, and a whole host of other beauty products to keep themselves gorgeous. So why is it the beauty regime is only making it to their ankles?

I was riding the Metro last night when I happened to check out the shoes of the woman sitting across from me. I can't help it - I have a shoe addition. I was startled to see that her toenails really resembled teeth instead. She had them painted in the French manicure style, but their length and the way they stuck out from her toes made them look shockingly similar to someone's teeth. I was transfixed for the entire ride. I just couldn't help it. I was desperately wanting to take a picture, but my somewhat developed sense of tact prevented me.

Then there was a woman dressed in a stunningly cut designer dress. Her hair was piled elegantly on her head, make up in perfect check, and she wore just the right amount of accessories. I was taking mental notes on her fashion sense, when I looked at her mouthwatering open toed shoes. Her toe nails were longer than my fingernails, a few broken, and badly discolored. How could she not be embarrassed? I can't set foot outside the door in a pair of strappy sandals without touching up the polish on my toes.

But I guess it all comes down to this. The Parisian women aren't to blame. No, instead I blame it on the lack of pedicure places in the city. Perhaps it's because there are no strip malls, or malls for that matter, in Paris - the natural habitat of pedicure shops. The government should just say no to ugly feet and like the pharmacies in France, create a subsidy program to incent a wave of new stores. Or perhaps I should just keep this idea to myself and open my own chain of Chez Tse pedicure palaces around town. Hmmm... now there's a money making idea if I ever heard one. Even if the Parisian women wouldn't go, I'd sure be busy with all the tourists in town who I'm proud to discover are very concerned about the pettiness of their toes.

So each time I go out, I try and set an example. I make sure my toes are nicely polished, even, and short. Maybe some Parisians will notice and rush to follow in my footsteps.

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