One sure way of measuring the general richness of one’s life might lie in counting the number of times one has taken off his shoes during the course of the day’s exploits.
If when getting into bed, one finds himself listlessly untying laces that have gone untouched since morning, we may deduce rather probably that the day was devoid of treats, thrills, and spoils—no sporting activities, romantic encounters, Turkish baths, nary even a suit fitting!
But in the pursuit of his pleasure, a gentleman never condescends to impinge unduly on the generosity of his fellows. He is, after all, a paragon of self-sufficiency, and given the slender chances of finding a judiciously positioned shoehorn wherever he may need one, a portable variant comes to sit high in the ranks of his essentials.
—Valet
