I love me some high heeled shoes. The higher the better. It all started with those ridiculously high, Westwood super-elevated ghillie shoes that made Naomi take a tumble in 1993. I didn't care about the obvious danger, I fell in love with those shoes and I longed for a pair.
It wasn't just that the shoes were, super duper high, it was that whole shiny blue, faux croc leather, the beautiful curvy lines and the fact that - until she fell - Naomi looked like a beautiful, impossibly long-limbed goddess. I still get a lump in my throat when I think about those shoes.
Anyway, 15 years later and I still can't pass a pair of high heeled shoes without coming over all queer. It's what led me to covet and buy among others my Gil Carvalho mock-croc platforms, Slick Cinderella Minx courts, and Shellys mock crocs but when I finally got own my very own pair of genuine Westwood platforms? Well, I tell ya. It was a good day. That day a shopping angel got it's wings.
I've been talking and thinking recently of shoes as pretty things, as objects to be admired in their own right over and above any functionality that they might have. Most of my high heel collection fall into this category. I just don't wear them half as much as I should but I look at them a lot and I really love them and I have no intention of giving them away.
3 hours ago