I’ve heard of drinking champagne from a lady’s shoe, of a glass slipper with transformative powers, of an old lady who lived in an over-populated shoe, of a puss who sported boots, but never until today had I heard of autographing a shoe.  For those readers who haven’t stayed au courant on the topic of stratospheric shoe heights and prices, the name Christian Louboutin may not resonate.  But if you read the Style section of the Sunday Times and you got as far as page 7 without being embarrassed, you saw a full page ad with a photo of a stiletto pump and the promise that on Thursday, Feb 7th, the designer himself would be at Saks to autograph your shoe purchase.  I’m assuming that he will sign the shoe itself, not the receipt.  This leads to several questions:  once the autograph is on it, is the shoe too valuable to actually wear?  It might be like using a napkin that Toulouse Lautrec had scribbled on.  If the value doesn’t change and the name is on the bottom of the shoe or its inner sole, how will anyone know the difference between the autographed version and the un-blessed shoe?  Will Christian Louboutin stamp the shoe with his signature or write his name on leather?  What kind of pen writes on leather?

     All this speculation has led me to wonder about celebrity autographs in general.  Why do people line up at Barnes & Noble or the 92nd Street Y to have a contemporary author sign their book?  Unless the author is a world-renowned Nobel Prize winner, the signature does nothing for the resale value of the book.  If you get the author to write a birthday message to someone else and gift the book, I suppose you might get extra points but I suspect that most people hold on to their autographs for sentimental reasons.  And what sentiment is it that’s expressed in a signature dashed off without any real interest in the recipient?  Does the momentary proximity confer the illusion that a relationship exists between the writer and the reader?  Does the book become dearer because its author took 20 seconds to pen his name in it?  People who buy pre-autographed copies of the book are even more removed from any motive, however illogical.  Can they fool themselves into the semblance of a personal kinship when the author wasn’t even there at the time of their purchase?

     My hunch is that people who buy autographed books might look down upon people who go to Saks to buy Christian Louboutin’s name.  The literary autograph seems more refined and elegant and so much less frivolous than naming a shoe.  The more I think about it, the more I realize that Saks has inadvertently punctured a sacred cow convention that deserves to be pricked.  There’s nothing intrinsically different between signing a book or a shoe.  Neither power nor creativity will pass from one person to another through an autograph.  If this is insulting to readers who collect autographed books, my only comment is “If the shoe fits, wear it.”

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