Head Over Heels

Except I'm not. In love I mean. Well, not with those shoes at any road. Please, please, please tell me that those hideously shaped heels are not coming back in fashion. We all know how Miss. B likes to be on top of the trends. And I saw some meeedja type in Soho wearing them yesterday.

Please tell me it's not a sign of what is to come. I don't think I could bear it. They remind me of the time when I was about 13 when I persuaded my mother that I would commit social suicide if my feet were not immediately housed in a pair of high heels. Foolishly she agreed (and we all know what sort of trouble that has lead to in the recent years) and she was duly dragged to Dolcis, the height of sophistication don't you know, in some two horse town where I tried on every pair of black high heels that they were willing to bring out to me. Although you know the surly types who worked in Dolcis of a weekend, so it probably wasn't that many.

I forced my parents to sit there while I tottered about like a young fawn um-ing and ah-ing in front of the mirror. One of the pairs had heels like that. If ever there was something that had its time and its place then it was those heels (and even that was probably pushing it) so the thought that their popularity might be on the rise fills me with DREAD!

Fortunately I had the foresight not to buy those and instead to buy the highest, least practical ones ever that I happily walked around in for the next couple of years, probably with that bent kneed, jutting chin, bottom out walked so perfected by all 13 year olds who have no idea what they are doing with 4 inches. (My how things have changed!) So I was saved the ignominy of ever having had something so ugly on my feet.

I do wish that Vicky could say the same.