Last week, I read about the sorry fate of many of the 1,200 pairs of shoes left behind by former Philippine first lady Imelda Marcos when her husband Ferdinand's government was toppled.

After the army-led "people power" revolt of 1986, her shoes, more than anything else, became the most potent symbol of the Marcos regime's corruption and excessive consumption.

So, it is perhaps no surprise that Filipinos have had a rather conflicted relationship with these unusual relics.

On the one hand, they are painful reminders of an authoritarian vainglorious ruler and his consort whom many would rather forget or distance themselves from. On the other hand, they are an indelible part of the country's history.

Interestingly, the fate of the shoes also shows up the implicit difference in attitudes that men and women have, in general, towards shoes.

Ferdinand Marcos' female successor, Mrs Corazon Aquino, saw fit to preserve the shoes in a museum in Malacanang Palace during her time in office.

However, when President Fidel Ramos took over in 1992, the shoes were removed from the museum and relegated to the palace basement.

In 1998, 300 pairs were given to a shoe museum in Marikina, a town known for its shoe industry and largely regarded as the country's shoe capital.

While Imelda's shoe stash contained international brands such as Salvatore Ferragamo and Bruno Magli, she was also apparently a supportive buyer of footwear from Marikina.

However, massive flooding from tropical storm Ketsana in 2009 damaged the museum, as well as many shoemakers' facilities and inventories.

In 2010, the museum reopened, reportedly with an additional 800 pairs of shoes from the Marcos collection.

Then, in August this year, widespread floods hit Manila as well as Marikina again. The shoes were further damaged. Meanwhile, over the years,

150 boxes of remaining shoes, as well as clothes and accessories belonging to the Marcoses, had been transferred to the National Museum for safekeeping, after the items were found to be damaged by mould and termites in the palace.

There, they were kept in a padlocked hall which flooded during the storms recently, due to a large leak in the ceiling.

Staff apparently made the discovery only when they saw water seeping out from under the door of the hall. The items, many of which were soaked through, are now being assessed for restoration.

Museum curator Orlando Abinion, who is heading the effort, was reported as saying: "We're doing a conservation rescue. There was termite infestation and mould in past years, and these were aggravated by the storm. It's unfortunate because Imelda may have worn some of these clothes in major official events and, as such, have an important place in our history."

In hindsight, all this is terrible news, not only from a historical, but also from sociological and fashion perspectives.

Historically, because they are a part of the story of a country, however unpleasant the story may have been. In an Associated Press report last week, a Philippine historian, Mr Michael Xiao Chua, was quoted as saying that the items should be preserved to remind current and future generations of Marcos' dictatorial rule and encourage them to safeguard the country's democracy.

Sociologically, shoes can say a lot about a person. A June study by the University of Kansas and Wellesley College in the United States revealed that it was possible, without the cues of facial expressions and context, to guess gender, age and income from a person's footwear. Shoes can also reveal certain personality traits, such as attachment anxiety, which is connected to the fear of rejection and is correlated with dull-coloured shoes.

While the study is surely not exhaustive or ground-breaking, a case could be made about a gender bias in commissioning deeper studies on shoes as cultural and socio-economic indicators. At the risk of generalising, men, who rule academia, largely see shoes as insubstantial trifles.

Of course, much has already been written about the Marcoses and about Imelda's larger-than-life personality. But could there be untold stories in her shoes? No one knows since no one has really bothered to study them.

From a fashion perspective, I would love to decide if Imelda was all about conspicuous consumption, or whether she was a true shoe connoisseur.

Did she possess any early Roger Vivier stiletto-heeled numbers - perhaps some of the creations he produced when working for the house of Christian Dior between 1953 and 1963?

Were there any now-collectible Beth Levine for Herbert Levine boots among the rain-drenched boxes? Any Courreges go-go boots? If so, those are shoes that definitely belong in a properly maintained museum, not a forgotten hall.

Depending on the extent of the restoration, one may never know the answers. Politics aside, I think this is a terrible loss, all round.

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