Ah yes, we are officially in the dog days of summer here in DC. The stifling heat and soupy humidity make rivulets of sweat stream down my back and between my boobs (squish). One morning while doing my daily trudge for three excruciating blocks from the Metro to my office, I realized that Tretorns and ballet flats were the only warm-weather footwear options in my closet. (How could this possibly be?) Even though I don’t particularly like my feet, I needed a pair of flip-flops (Gawker article be damned!) that are dressier than Reefs and have more support than Havaianas. My dream was to buy a pair of Jack Rogers sandals that would transform me Cinderella-style into a Palm Beach princess or Jackie O.

My holy grail: Jack Rogers leather Navajo sandal, “Vachetta Couture”

These might not blow you away, but I loved their understated nude color. And since the leather is untreated, they would tan as I tan—sweet! (They would be like skin-tone-matching TKEES but sturdier.) This particular model ($158) was only available at the Jack Rogers Madison Avenue boutique or via their website so I went to Nordstrom to try on a similar style for size. Ugh, no! They just didn’t look or fit right. Palm Beach fantasy denied!

All was not lost, though, because I did see a pair of Børn “Kyra” leather sandals that turned out to be really comfortable. I didn’t care for the hippy-dippy, floral embossed design on the cushioned insole, but beggars-with-wide-flat-feet can’t be choosers. I bought the cream-colored pair for $60 at the Half-Yearly Sale and then ordered a second pair in canary yellow.

Twice as nice: Børn sandals in “Goldfinch” and “Salt”

Wanna know the biggest reason why I love these flip-flops? Their braided straps remind me of macramé bracelets from summer camp in Vermont. They absorbed a season’s worth of good times—spilled bug juice, globs of sunscreen and pink Caladryl, Lake Fairlee’s cool waters—till I cut them off my wrist in the fall…

But back to reality: I’ve now joined the ranks of thousands of DC women who wear slides, mules or any other type of backless shoes that make that distinct and annoying “clucking” (“clackety-clack”?) noise with every stride. Hurrying down Metro’s always-broken escalators to the train platform, we sound like one big herd of cacophonous feet. OK, so I guess these Børns weren’t born to run.