BLOG 200: Down at heel?

“Give a girl the correct footwear and she can conquer the world.” - Bette Middler

My spring mission was to sort out my shoes. I don’t think of myself as a shoe person... if I have a few spare quid it is more likely to turn into a top. Shoes spend an inordinate amount of time under things, and if I am gonna splash the cash... I’d rather it go where people can see.

That said, I am blessed with horse legs (thin, long, shapely) and it kind of makes sense to make the most of me pins. What I didn’t realise was exactly how much I was making of them. 87 pair of shoes, 14 pairs of boots, 8 pairs of pumps, 3 pairs of flip-flops and a pair of slippers.

O

M

G

If a non-shoe person can amass 112 items of footwear... what on earth would the score be for a shoe-lover?

I am pleased to say that I have been ruthless and have completed a cull in which only the 3 p’s survived. The pretty. The practical. The provoking. Eighty two pairs of footwear found their way to the charity shops of Sauff Eayst Lundin Overspill into Kent as a result and I am now able to conquer the world as Ms Middler proclaimed with my feet appropriately dressed.

It is a strange relationship, that one between a woman and her footwear.

I am not a shoe lover (I hand that crown to my big sister, whose shoes are the object of many a strangers lust filled conversation), but I have experience of the tantric uplift that can be attained by wearing just the right pair of hoofers.

I was once working for a terrible organisation. You know the sort... they believed their own publicity (which was strange because they wrote it, so they must have realised it was fiction hour?). I used to wake up super early every morning, and just lie in bed psyching myself up for another day of falsehoods and puff. But I never really squared my shoulders and felt ready to handle anything until I put my shoes on. It is a ritual in my house that no one puts on their shoes until they are about to open the front door. I’d potter about doing my morning routine of ablutions, clothing and breakfast... each stage getting me closer to stepping out into the world. But I never felt battle ready until I strapped myself into my Mary-Janes.

Once in my heels a quite literal transformation of my body took place. The pottering stopped and I could strut. A simple pair of calfskin shoes with an adjustable buckle strap across vamp sitting on a 3 ¾ inch heel, and my posture improved and I changed into someone who was assertive, in control and above all confident. There was very little I couldn’t face head on with my Mary-Janes on my feet.

The terrible organisation had to be toed to the kerb but... fret not... even with my recent brutal shoe cull... the Mary-Janes survived.

In fact these shoes, along with a select band of empowering footwear not only survived being packaged off to the Sally Army, they got a place on a particular shoe rack. This is the rack for my most treasured pairs – not necessarily the most expensive or the most pretty, but the ones with which the most positive associations are connected.

Now that does sound a little mad... doesn’t it?

Talking off mad, I was interviewing a clinical psychologist about physiology and psychological conditioning. Not much to do with shoes one would think, but she randomly asked me about my wearing heels. I pointed out that I find them more comfortable than flats - to which she said that I was mistaken. Apparently (according to her) the wearing of heels takes skill, confidence and even physical endurance, so as a consequence changes the way a woman perceives herself, thus the act of wearing heels positively effects a woman’s mood and alters her perception of comfort. She was convinced I was actually in great physical discomfort.

Despite my assurances that my feet were fine, she was having none of it. She also claimed I was in complete denial about my entire relationship with shoes. She claimed the logical centre of my brain knew it would be immature, vain, silly and indulgent to admit to an emotional relationship with my footwear. She claimed I was a closet shoe-lover, she also added that I was so advanced with my positive associations with what I shod my feet with that I could for up to eight hours a day alter my body’s perception of discomfort or even pain.

She may have had a point as first thing I do when I get back home is get the damn things off my feet (as the last few yards to my house always feel like an endurance test and am dead below the ankle after an 8 hr day!).

But hey ho... I like a heel. They empower me. And if after a long ol’ day I wanna kick them off and pad about my own place in bare feet... who can blame me.

Mind you, I was working on a corporate blog about what female movie lovers find most desirable – basically what elicits the greatest longing – lust if you will.

Well, in at number four was Brad Pitt. (Not an object of lust for me... that fling he had with Sinitta back in the 80’s left me cold, but I get it, not bad at all for a 48yr old), residing at number three was The Clooney (Okay I’m female... we ALL fancy 1961’s most divine offering) and at number one was Matthew McConaughy (Not sure why this Paul Newman lookalikey got the number one spot but yeah... desirable I guess). It was all (Mr McConaughy aside) pretty predictable until I looked closely at what came in at number two. Riding high at Number Two with THIRTY PER CENT MORE votes than either Brad or George... were shoes.

As I trawled through the data, the reasons given were much the same as the reasons given for the movie stars the women had picked: “They make me feel good”

And that’s the thing.

Desiring a movie star is not charged with the same pressures and body image anxiety of desiring a man within your social circle. Desiring Brad or George or (apparently) Matthew actually deflects that kind of pressure. In lusting for a movie star all women are equal.

It’s the same with shoes... they deflect the pressure that is associated with other types of clothing/accessory purchasing. With shoes: if you are a size 5 then you're are a size 5... and no one is gonna expect you to reduce to a smaller size. In buying shoes all women are equal.

Just like a movie star elicits lust and longing, walking past a closed store and seeing a perfect pair of shoes in the window elicits much the same feeling.

We can all recall the scene in 'Sex in The City' when Sarah Jessica Parker's character comes to a grinding halt before a closed shop window. Through the window she sees the latest shoes and strokes the window longingly and purrs:

“Hell...oo Lover”

But there the similarity ends....the only bar to getting jiggy with shoes are store opening hours. Unlike a movie star – you can take a pair of shoes home. They can REALLY be yours.

I guess if that clinical psychologist bird was here now, she would be fast at pointing out that this appears to be something I personally have done 112 times over a recent period!

I do wonder what she’d make of my cull though? Eighty two to charity and twenty nine shoes, boots,flip-flops and pumps (and one pair of slippers) remaining. The pretty, The practical and The provoking only.

I suppose she’d say I kept the Brad, the George and the Matthew of the shoe world... If only I would admit it!

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