God Save My Shoes

The other night, I watched a documentary on Netflix about high heels. The film was supposed to “explore the intimate relationship between women and their shoes.” They interviewed designers Christin Louboutin and Manolo Blahnik; celebrities Kelly Rowland and Dita von Teese; and average women in New York and Paris.

god save my shoes

The history of the high heel was discussed, as well as money, and even the shoe’s relationship with sex.

Here is where it gets tricky for me. As I mentioned last month, I can no longer wear heels. It’s just too painful.

I still appreciate a beautiful pair of heels, and both envy and admire women who are able to wear them. I have no problem with women who love heels and have sixty pairs or wear them whenever, wherever.

I don’t like the idea of heels being linked to sexiness and femininity. I know, I know, that’s their point.

I just don’t like the idea that me not wearing heels makes me less sexy, or less feminine. As Dita herself said in an interview, “You can’t dictate to a woman what makes her feel sexy.” Ever since I’ve been wearing flats, I’ve been feeling more comfortable, and a little more sexy. I’ve always felt sexiest when I’m at my most comfortable. Jeans, a tank top, and flats for me. And the idea that my boyfriend is going to leave me for some pretty thing in four inch heels makes me laugh.

But if that’s the future, then I welcome my impending spinsterhood with open arms.

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