Best foot forward
heels/EleganceGirls/flickr
Fashion and footwear go together like a horse and carriage. In my mother’s day, and this is a tradition still upheld by the Queen of England, one’s shoes were carefully coordinated with, at the minimum, one’s handbag, and desirably, one’s coat. Now there are many reasons why I have never adopted this model, except perhaps on the occasion of my aunt’s wedding, when, aged 11, I was chief bridesmaid. I had a pale pink dress, pale pink shoes and a tiny pale pink handbag. This sartorial display was, not surprisingly, entirely determined by my mother. Oh yes, there was also a matching pale pink Alice band in my hair. It was a long time before I wore pink of any shade again.
Keeping the focus on footwear, I’ve lived through what feels like countless trends, encompassing Biba boots, platforms, Birkenstocks, flats, trainers, Mary Janes, brogues, pumps, espadrilles, boots of every height from ankle to thigh, peep toes, stilettos…ah, and therein lies the rub – literally. I just don’t understand how women can walk in anything with a heel higher than around 3 cm. For me, walking in high heels is the equivalent of balancing on stilts. And somehow you’re supposed to carry a handbag at the same time – and remember where you’re going. It’s just not natural, to my mind.
Having worked extensively in Russia, I was reduced to standing and staring with amazement as women there coolly march around IN THE SNOW in heels of a minimum height of 10 cm. There am I, anxiously watching every one of my steps, all the time with my feet clad in non-slip sensibly fleece-lined boots, and these gals stride purposefully past me, heads held confidently high, legs in pale stockings (which somehow don’t get splashed) and in elegant high heels. And they never look down.
Several years ago I developed and managed a programme funded by the Overseas Development Agency. It entailed bringing to the UK the top judges from the Russian Federation to study the judicial system of England and Wales, in particular its independence. Passing swiftly over the current state of the judiciary in Russia, I only mention this because on the last day of the visit the judges had free time for sightseeing and shopping. The judge from Archangel returned from his trip seething with indignation. He complained that London’s reputation as a centre of fashion was clearly unwarranted. Why? Because he had hunted high and low and had not been able to find his wife a proper pair of heels. And this was for a woman in Archangel – not exactly a hotbed of style.
I began to wonder whether the ability to wear proper heels is somehow something girls are born with, and also country- specific. I mean, if you actually study how the average British woman walks in high heels it is almost embarrassing. Inevitably the walk becomes more of a totter, and the shoes always look too big. They always look far more at home in the summer months when the havaianas get dusted down and brought back into service.
Yet despite my inability to manage heels I have always appreciated stylish footwear – albeit mainly on others. One of my favourite books as a child was White Boots by Noel Streatfeild. It transported me into the magic world of skating, and the footwear was, naturally, a key aspect. Equally enthralling was the 1948 film The Red Shoes by Powell and Pressburger, based on a fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen. Catch it if you can.
Apparently Mariah Carey claims her feet reject any shoes that don’t have sky-high heels!