Never in a million years would I have thought I had anything in common with Rose Kennedy, Paris Hilton or Antonio Banderas.

And certainly not with Larry Flynt, Maya Angelou, Elia Kazan or Salvador Dali.

But I do! I do! It's my shoe!

We are all "sole" mates.

There are others, too numerous to mention, sharing this distinction on a list of Collectible Superstar Shoes.

Among the 600-plus people on the ever-growing list there is an Oscar Wilde shoe, a Truman Capote, a Barbie Benton, a Frederic Fekkai, a Leon Spinks and a J. Edgar Hoover.

How did I ever become a shoe shining star?

The artist behind the fancy footwear drawings, not meant for wearing but hanging, is Paul LeRoy Gehres, also known as LeRoy "King of Art" and Lucky LeRoy.

A couple I know, Melinda and Craig Bohna, alerted me to the fact that my shoe was hanging on a wall at Panza Gallery in Millvale.

Did I know I had a celebrity shoe?

Well, no. But it sounded like fun, so I contacted LeRoy to learn more about his artwork.

When we think of shoes, we think of Imelda Marcos -- or in today's fashion world, Jimmy Choo or Manolo Blahnik with their stiletto heels and equally high price tags.

But LeRoy thought of Andy Warhol, and that's who inspired this collection. It is reminiscent of Warhol's early shoe sketches and his obsession with celebrities.

LeRoy has always loved Warhol's work, and he says he chooses his celebrities as "people I'd want to invite to a dinner party."

Considering there are more than 600 such people, among them John Gotti and Lenora Helmsley -- and me -- that would be some dinner party.

LeRoy studied here at the Art Institute in 1982 and then Cooper Union in New York City. But he's back in Pittsburgh to be closer to his parents, who live in Mercer County. He likes it here.

His freelance illustration business is at www.leroyland.com.

It seems a column I wrote about the Barbizon Hotel for Women in New York City and my fashion writing background brought me to LeRoy's attention.

He added my shoe to the collection.

It's pink with four blue bows going up the high cut-out shoe vamp.

Is it me? Would I wear it?

That's not the point. None of the shoes he draws and paints in bright and pastel watercolors are meant to express an individual's personality, unless, of course, you look at the Fred Rogers shoe.

Would anything but a pair of blue sneakers do? Of course not. The Lilly Pulitzer shoe is green and pink, which acknowledges the clothing designer's preferred colors, but beyond that, a shoe is just a shoe, made to order only by the picture of the celebrity he places on the art work.

The drawings aren't about a sense of style or lack of a sense of style.

LeRoy just likes to draw shoes, reminiscent of Warhol's technique. And he loves fashion, having specialized in fashion illustration at the Art Institute. Many fashion names are among his celebrities, from models and photographers to designers and media.

LeRoy continued to surprise me. He arrived at Starbucks for our chat over coffee (which we never got around to ordering) with a bright red suitcase in which he keeps his extensive portfolio of designated shoes. Since we had never met, he said I would know him by his shoes.

I did indeed because unlike other men in the room, he was wearing brown-and-white golfers' shoes you couldn't help but notice.

In addition to what we might call a shoe fetish, LeRoy also does dog portraits and he creates quilts from old T-shirt materials. But since 1998, he has savored shoes.

He says a few familiar names (actress Sylvia Miles, comedian Joan Rivers, fashion photographer Steven Meisel and designer Anna Sui) have his drawings in their private collections.

He has contributed sketches (other than shoes) to The New Yorker, Interview, The Village Voice, Details and Entertainment Weekly.

Sui has had him design many of the invitations and run-of-show brochures for her collections and she even used multi-colored hand-loomed scarves created by his mother, Kitty Gehres, in a fall collection.

Did I mention I share honors with Abe Lincoln, Martha Stewart and Geraldo Rivera as shoe-ins?

I've been thinking Nancy ("These Boots Are Made for Walkin'") Sinatra, would be a natural, but only her daddy, Frank, made the cut.

Oh, the company I keep.