Monday, November 21

Training Heels


I have a confession to make: I’ve developed an addiction.

As they tend to be, this addiction is immediately gratifying, but causes both short and long term physical damages.

I know better, but I don’t want to stop.

It hurts, but I like it.

They hurt, I should say.

I’m addicted to heels. Wedges, to be exact. In buttery leather, luxurious suede, patent leather, and in one special case, a divine combination. They’re averaging about three inches high and can be worn with absolutely everything. They anchor knee length skirts, sex-up suits, and add the perfect coolness to a pair of skinny jeans. They’re like the adult answer to Doc Martins—huge shoes that take charge, but this time instead of saying “Damn the Man!” they’re saying “I’m the man.”

Here’s the problem: I’ve never really worn heels before. This isn’t that shocking if you think about the difference between wearing heels sometimes, and really wearing heels. All day. Every day. At a job that requires you to run up and down a large, famous marble staircase multiple times throughout the day.

And let me just tell you, the heels have been hurting like hell. I’m able to put it out of my mind most of the day, but by the time I get home I am tiptoeing around like a coal-walker's apprentice. It never fails, too, that days I decide to give my tootsies a break are the days I’m required to sit on my tushey.

Yet this insane behavior goes back to my original sentiment about my job: it deserves aesthetic respect. And this means manning up and putting on my big girl shoes. That means heels. I feel like a child in flats, like I’m putting on my school uniform or dressing up in my mother’s work clothes. Serious shoes do more than dress you up, they pull you up, both in posture and perception.

Take out a magazine, a newspaper, or any form of media that features the kind of woman you admire. Not the models or the actresses in their contrived couture, but the people working behind the scenes styling, writing, and influencing these publications. Then look at their feet. They ain’t wearin loafers.

Kimora Lee Simons said it and said it well: “A woman can do everything a man does, and she can do it in stilettos.”

I’m not nearly to that point of success or stability, professional or podiatric, but I’m working on it inch by inch. In every direction I can.