Powder under the insole

Two surfaces rubbing, or air being squeezed out from between them, and yes, for a while. Some people dust baby powder, talc or cornstarch under the insole or on the footbed, and say the squeak or the suction noise stops; the powder sits between the two surfaces so they slide instead of gripping, and takes up the sweat that makes foam grip skin. Some people say they had the same squelch from similar foam slides, and more had the same problem in similar footwear, so if yours is a slide, you are in company. Where the noise is skin on foam, one conversation lists the barriers — a sock, toe socks, a felt insole, a coat of waterproofing spray on the footbed — and one person adds moleskin or a heel-grip sticker where the heel lands; and one person uses an antiperspirant or deodorant on the foot itself, which is the same idea as the powder from the other side. People argue whether the powder is a fix at all: some people say it works and is simple, some people say it works only briefly, looks grubby and gets worse once the foot sweats — and people’s own decider is whether you want silence now or a clean shoe later; how long the powder keeps working on foam is a gap people named. One person goes further and puts small holes or grooves in the footbed so the air escapes instead of squeaking; some people warn that is permanent and may weaken the shoe or its water resistance. One person warns tape gets hot and sweaty, shifts and leaves residue that adds to the noise. And the argument that decides the whole page: some people say fix the shoe — socks, powder, holes — and some people say return it, give it away or bin it; people’s decider is what the shoe means to you against how much the noise annoys you. One person, for balance, says the noise is funny and they have simply learned to live with it.

Same cause, different layer, and the same fix in a different place. In a lace-up or a work shoe the creak is usually the insole moving against the midsole, or the tongue against the upper, or a leather sole against a hard floor; people treat the first with the same powder — lift the insole, dust the base under it, replace — and one person uses a felt or fabric insole so the two surfaces stop being plastic on plastic. If the squeak is the sole itself on a polished floor, one person scores the bottom of high heels so they stop slipping; that is permanent, like the holes, and this page passes it on as theirs. Whether a new shoe should need breaking in at all is argued by people — which is the third question. Two things people flag for a creaking shoe that are not about noise: one person warns feet swell as you walk, so a shoe tried on sitting still can be bought too small, and one person says to test a shoe on a hard floor rather than the shop carpet, which flatters everything. If the noise is a dress shoe on tile in a quiet office, people have nothing for you: footwear other than trainers and slides is a gap people named.

People argue this one properly, so here are the sides, the methods and the limits. The argument first. People argue whether shoes need breaking in at all: some people say new shoes — for work especially — need it, by wearing, soaking or freezing; some people say there is no such thing, that a shoe which hurts on day one is the wrong size or badly made, and that trying to break in a shoe that does not fit only damages it. A second argument is fix-or-return, and people’s decider is the shoe: expensive, needed for work or sentimental — try to stretch it; cheap and replaceable — return it. People also argue about the freezer method itself, and the deciders are what the shoe is made of and how its seams hold. The methods, as people describe them and with their warnings attached. Wear them for short stretches indoors first — some people say so, and it costs nothing; one person buys only from shops with a returns policy and wears the pair indoors for a full day before deciding. The hairdryer: warm the tight spot while wearing thick socks, flex the foot, let it cool on the foot — one person prefers this to the freezer because it moulds the shoe to your foot rather than to a bag of ice. A spray of rubbing alcohol and water on the inside of a leather shoe, worn while damp — one person warns inside only, because alcohol strips polish, and never on fake leather, which is plastic and only gets stripped. The freezer: a bag of water inside each shoe, frozen overnight, so the ice stretches the shoe as it expands — some people swear by it, and some say it has saved heels, boots and loafers many times; against it, some people say fill the bag no more than half or it bursts, another says some shoes are damaged by any aggressive method, one says a cheap glued insole comes away under the pressure, some say leather can crack or stiffen in the cold, some say the water expands into the weak seams rather than the stiff leather. Gentler versions, one person each: dried beans in a bag instead of water, a wooden shoe stretcher or shoe trees, or a cobbler’s stretching, which one person says spares the insole. One person soaks one particular make of leather boat shoe in salt water for twenty minutes and wears it dry — canvas shoes are a gap people named, and one person warns that it fades unless both shoes are treated alike. The limits: none of this is for a cheap, glued or synthetic shoe you cannot afford to ruin, and nothing goes in a microwave. This page’s own position, marked as its own: if it hurts in the shop, the people who say there is no breaking in are right and it is the wrong shoe; if it is a good shoe that is a fraction tight, wear it indoors, then the hairdryer, then a stretcher, and the freezer last and half-full.

Get measured, and people mean measured properly, though they argue about who can do it. Some people say discomfort is mostly wrong sizing — length, width and depth — and that a shop with a proper measuring device and staff who know how to use it is the baseline; others add that sizing varies between makers and even between models from the same maker, that width sizes exist well beyond ‘medium’ and ‘wide’ and that one person says a shoe that fits in length but pinches should go wider, not longer, that feet are at their largest at the end of the day so that is when to try shoes on, and that one foot is usually larger than the other — buy for the larger, and pad the smaller, or, for a big difference, buy two sizes or use an odd-shoe exchange, which one person says exists as a charity. People argue, one person each way, whether professional measuring is even needed — one says any shop has the tool and it takes no training, the other that the tool missed their size difference and arch mismatch until a specialist found them; one person warns that shop staff are often untrained, and one person warns that not every ‘professional’ measurement is worth having. One person traces both feet on paper and measures the tracing if no shop can be trusted. People also argue about price: one person says you must spend properly at a specialist shop, some people say cheaper cushioned shoes suited them better than expensive leather that needed breaking in; the decider is your feet. One person warns people with very large sizes have few choices, and another that wide shoes are scarce in fast fashion. The rule of thumb people share: a thumb’s width at the toe, room to wiggle, and a shoe that fits comfortably immediately — one person says a good shoe needs no breaking in at all, and if it does, look again at the size.

Then people send you past the powder to two other places, and this page follows them. First, socks. Some people say the friction that blisters is between skin and sock, and moving it to between two socks — a thin liner under a thicker sock, or a purpose-made double-layer sock — stops most of it; others add that thin cheap socks blister worst, that thick work socks help, and that a foot balm or moleskin on the hot spots does the rest. One person says thick socks make the feet sweat and sweat blisters too; the decider is your own feet and a sock that wicks. Second, and this is the line the page carries as people’s own and not as a diagnosis: if you blister in every shoe you own, people argue whether that is a fit problem or a medical one, and neither side settles it; one person says a podiatrist’s diagnosis is what tells you which, and this page’s own line is to get properly measured first, because a skin condition or a joint condition that lets the foot move too much inside the shoe can be the cause, and a podiatrist rather than a shoe shop is who finds it. One person warns the joint condition is specific and not everyone with blisters has it; people’s own test for the skin condition is whether your hands blister easily too, or whether it runs in your family — a question for the appointment, not for this page. One person says that for some people fitting solves only part of it and treatment is still needed, and one says walking mechanics, which a physiotherapist looks at, can be the cause. This page is about a shoe that squeaks and a shoe that pinches; the foot that blisters in everything has its own doctor.