by Gretchen Hamm

I admit it: I have a problem.

I spend a lot of time rationalizing my obsession. I walk a lot. I stand on my feet all day. I got them on sale. But when it really comes down to it, there is no excuse for having enough shoes that I could wear a different pair each week of the year. I even went so far as to convert an entire floor-to-ceiling linen closet into a shoe shelf. I have to confess: I have a shoe fetish.

But none of this is what drove me to my 2005 New Years resolution, which was to limit my shoe intake to four pairs of shoes next year. All things in moderation, I thought. One pair per quarter should be enough, right? I started to feel guilty, not just because my linens have been displaced, but because I felt that I was consuming too much.

I had to face my denial. I had to confront my secret shopping habit. I had to count my shoes.

I ended up with 53 pairs, including 17 sandals, 11 heels, nine boots, eight comfort, five athletic, and, of course, three novelty pairs with impossible heels, fit only for Halloween costumes. I looked at the labels to see where my shoes were made.

According to the Footwear Distributors and Retailers Association (FDRA), in 2003, Chinese imports of footwear lead the foreign market, importing 1.6 billion pairs of shoes in 2003, or 81 percent of the total market. Brazil is the second largest producer of shoes, accounting for 5 percent of the market.

While 94 percent of my shoes are imports, slightly less than half are from China, 23 percent from Italy, some from Brazil, and three pairs of unknown origin. I finally found three pair made in here the U.S. –- all Cowboy boots. It was a revelation to count them, as it was to find out where they are from. Surprisingly, most of the sandals and clogs are from China.

Shoe consumption in the U.S. has increased steadily -– doubling from 1980 to a total of 2 billion pairs in 2003. 98 percent of these shoes are imported, which explains why the cowboy boots represent such a small portion of my shoe collection.

I am now obsessed about reading the labels of where shoes are made, and my obsession has spread to apparel. I see "Made in Macau" and envision sweatshops. I see cheap plastic items made in China or other Asian countries, and think of the accounts Ive read of unregulated factories, rampant pollution, cramped worker dorms, just imagining ten to twelve hour days working in a shoe factory. Each time see one of these labels, its become much easier not to buy.

After an early January shoe binge (buying four pairs and later returning two), I have to live with self-imposed rule that I will only be buying two more pairs of shoes this year. This makes me think harder about my choices -– is this pair of shoes worth not buying any more until June? Saying no is easier when I know that there is a limit. Reading the labels also helps me choose, or choose not to, make a purchse.

In alignment with my shoe reduction resolution, I also decided to recycle more this year. I am selling through consignment stores and eBay, or simply donating them so that they can get a second use and a new pair doesnt have to be produced.

I keep reminding myself, "How hard can it be?" After all, I have a linen closets worth to choose from for each week of the year. Perhaps next year Ill tackle my handbags.

Gretchen Hamm writes from Seattle, Wash., where she represents artists in the Pacific Northwest who create with recycled materials by distributing their work in stores and through cushlife.com.