Oh, lord, yes!

My ex-wife, in her beautiful hippie-chick prime, eschewed even sandals during snowy Winters. One of the reasons that I loved her, you know.

I loved the different textures and temperatures on the soles of my feet. Carpets and wet concrete and rich soil and pebbles and pine tags (a Virginian affectation) and hot sand — all of them; all of them.

Who ordained the idea that rough and tough soles are unladylike? She — and other women like her — was/were the kind of adventurers whose company I cherished!