Tuesday, 31 January 2012

Head Over Heels

A couple of years ago I went to my lovely friend Kirsty's wedding at a sweet country church. In the invitations she stated that the path to the churchyard was very uneven and that high heels probably weren't to be recommended. Pah! I thought. I'm not going to a wedding not wearing heels. I have few enough chances to rock a heel, and really weddings are the major time now when I can get done up. So I wore my very highest and most beautiful black suede Miu Mius. And of course I could barely walk in the damn things. I was clutching at all and sundry to keep myself upright. One of my friend's boyfriend (who admittedly did have to wait for an age while I crept back to his car to drive to the reception) was very snooty and critical of my choice. I almost didn't have a leg to stand on (badum, chaa!) in the argument until another guest at the wedding positively launched herself at me (although thinking about it maybe she was wearing heels too) to let me know how much she loved my shoes, and of course I felt totally exonerated. Plus the fact that said boyfriend was wearing some hideous brown mess of a shoe that resembled a Cornish pasty which of course made me feel justified in ignoring any sartorial statements he chose to make.
(Image via Kurt Geiger, The Outnet)

So, anyhoo, bored yet? No? Oh, you are kind. Well, for the wedding in SA in April I am considering a more sensible heel height. I quite like the top pair. For one thing the colour is cute, and of course the heel is reasonable. I could be happy all night in those puppies. But the strappiness? I haven't worn a shoe like that for some time, mostly because my little pig wouldn't be constrained and popped out constantly, so the strap tried to enact some revenge, converting into a cheese wire mechanism to try and slice the poor little pig off my foot. Yeah, not so comfy. So I am nervous of any other shoe that might do the same.

Actually what I really want are these incredible Camilla Skovgaards from the Outnet, but that heel's not exactly demure, is it? Knowing me I won't be able to resist a high heel, so maybe I should stop even pretending. What do you think?

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