I have said before that I don’t understand most women’s fascination with handbags. Shoes, however, are a different matter. I can be quite illogical about shoes. Yes, I don’t understand the appeal of Jimmy Choos and Manolo Blahnicks (nasty clunky looking things) and yes, I have my sensible pairs of Clarks (they don’t leak), but I also have ridiculous strappy, high heeled confections of joy not because they are comfortable (some of them I can barely walk in) or waterproof (far from it) but because they are beautiful.
When I was at Uni I had a pair of black high-heeled sandals (as they are called, although they’ll never see a beach) which had a network of narrow, overlapping black straps, a four inch heel and not much else. I called them my suicide shoes. I wore them to the hall ball one night – six hours in those shoes and I couldn’t feel my feet for two days afterwards. But it was worth it because they were so beautiful. And not just the shoes themselves, but in really lovely shoes your feet are transformed into things of beauty too.
The latest episode of my relationship with shoes has been my search for the perfect pair of high heeled long boots. They are in fashion at the moment, but in some ways that doesn’t help because a) there’s too much choice, too many places to look and b) the ones that are in fashion are generally either slouch style and too short, or over the knee (yikes!) or have so many buckles you’ll probably fasten your legs together as you walk.
I finally found a pair after much searching – heel not too high, not too flat, colour right (has to be black), only a small, unthreatening amount of buckles, and, for a miracle, the right length on the leg, too. Then, the day after I found them, I suffered an unexpected attack of shoe envy when the boss at work walked in with a better pair! Horror! Of course, her budget is less limited than mine, but it leached all the joy out of my acquisition. At least until I saw them the next day from another angle and they made her look like Rudolph Hess. Phew! My boots are perfect again.
One thing that is annoying about shoes, though, is that you have to put up with whatever height of heel the manufacturer sees fit to give you. If you love the shoes and they have four inch heels, tough – you will have to get used to pain. If you love them and the heel isn’t long enough to keep your trousers off the floor, again, tough – you’ll have to learn to sew hems. Surely there is a market for shoes, not just in different sizes, but also different heel heights? An idea for any entrepreneur ready to brave the (never-ending?) credit crunch.
Liked this? Try ‘We Don’t Do Half Sizes‘ and Office Life (and Death)
K C Murdarasi 
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