in my shoes

Today was a hell of a day, sometimes work goes down like that. The degree of suffering, the nakedness of despair, it's too much to even try and share no matter how much it rattles around in my head. So instead I'm going to talk about shoes, because if I don't talk about shoes I might break down and sob and no one likes a crier.

So back to the shoes. This morning when I was getting ready to leave J said something to the effect of those shoes are hideous. The shoes in question are ones I've had in my closet forever, I almost never wear them and yet find them endearing and perhaps even sassy and they were super cheap (for some reason that qualifier matters a great deal). Of course, J has no sense of style and I've told him so, in fact several folks at my work were highly complimentary of them which of course I've enjoyed gloating about when I came home.

But figuring that the jury may still be out, I of course must turn to you.
In or out, amigas? Inquiring minds want to know.