Genes win out when there's a shoe sale

Last month, I had one of those moments when I saw my mother in my daughter. It wasn't the shape of Grace's face or the color of her eyes. There is little resemblance: My mother was blond and blue-eyed and my daughter has dark, penetrating eyes and hair almost the color of creosote. At least this week it's black. Some weeks it's auburn. In any case, I glimpsed my mother in my daughter in a conversation over the phone.

Grace is 16, a junior in high school, and last month she was looking at...