King Tut’s shoes

Most would almost never expect a well-established archaeologist who lives and works in both Europe and Egypt to say anything along the lines of "I don't fancy seeing the mummy."

However, those were the words of Dr. André Veldmeijer on Oct 8, when he came to the Toledo Museum of Art to give a speech entitled "Tutankhamun's Footwear."

Veldmeijer, originally from Amsterdam, is the author of the new book "Tutankhamun's Footwear: Studies of Ancient Egyptian Footwear" and has conducted the first-ever study of the shoes found in this pharaoh's tomb. He is also the chairman of the web-based Netherlands scientific journals, PalArch, and is a part of the Archaelogical Institute of America (AIA), as well as the Ancient Egyptian Footwear Project (AEFP).

While this archaeologist may not be intrigued by any part of tightly wrapped corpses, his interest is certainly piqued when it comes to their foot's accessories. Tutankhamun, more commonly known as King Tut, unknowingly provided an ample amount of style and variety for use in Veldmeijer's studies. Excavated from King Tut's tomb alone were 94 pairs of sandals and shoes made with anything from cured leather, to bark, to strong and durable cords constructed from palm leaves.

Of the sandals, five types have been identified. These include sewn, coiled sewn, plain plaited, woven and leather composite, while only two types of shoes were recognized: those that were leather open or leather closed.

As is to be expected, much of the footwear is quite torn or deteriorated, making the intense effort of picking out its grandeur a bit more challenging. Veldmeijer pointed out that a few of the shoes, when made of cured leather and stored in moisture, even had decay fluids "pouring out" like liquefied wax.

This being said, the footwear currently looks unfit for even the most unfortunate feet. Despite their current state of decomposition, in their day the shoes — which boasted the usual color combination of red and green — were adorned with beads, diamonds, gold and intricate design.

Veldmeijer isn't sure of the comfort level of the shoes, but admits "That is what I hope to find out."

He adds that "Comfortable for us doesn't mean comfortable for them," particularly when considering that the majority of people and workers of the time did not wear any kind of shoe at all and would have spent most of the time treading barefoot.

While not all footwear was restricted to royalty, Veldmeijer mentions that it "reflects [a] delicate boundary in status." Comparatively, we think of red, high-heeled pumps connoting a certain air of power, just as the ancient Egyptians would have viewed Tut's diamond-and-gold-covered feet.

Unlike this status-holding foot apparel, and much to the surprise of excavators, pairs of early socks were also found within the tomb. It's true that the ancient Egyptians have often been praised for their elaborate costume and high fashion, but there is the ever-present possibility that King Tut actually committed the appearance faux pas of wearing socks with sandals. Needless to say, if this speculation should be proven, contemporary fashion designers would be appalled.

While these discoveries fascinate archaeologists and ancient Egypt fanatics alike, more interesting to the common person could be the reality of Tutankhamun as a human being. Even the most powerful of pharaohs was subject to a clubfoot, therefore making the study of his footwear all the more interesting.

It is unknown as to whether or not King Tut's slight handicap would have affected his shoes, but we can still be certain of one thing. Regardless of royalty, birthright, golden details or structure of weaving, his shoes were fit for a king.