Today I went shopping, actual going-to-the-mall-to-buy-things shopping, for the first time in a year and a half. Oh, I’ve been to the supermarket and out-of-town stores but this was the first time I had ventured into the city and walked through a shopping centre with the intention of buying stuff. Well, there were only two objectives really; a stick-to-the-fridge magnetic shopping list from Paperchase and a gift voucher (a Christmas gift) to spend in M&S. (Ain’t life exciting?)
But first, I decided to ‘get dressed’. Of course nude shopping is not really a thing and would be frowned upon, I guess, so what I mean is that, contrary to my usual ‘comfy’ clothes that are suited to walking the dog and lounging around at home, I felt an urge to wear a dress today, make a bit of an effort, if you will. Therefore, my normal shoes (trainers or walking boots) did not seem appropriate. I ventured into the forsaken under-bed shoe drawer to find a very dusty pair of black patent heels to compliment the dress and, after a quick wipe, judged them up to the task of getting me around the shopping centre.
The dust-covered condition of my shoe drawer is a big clue to the importance of shoes in my life but, as my blog title acknowledges, I am not typical. The footwear market in the UK in 2019 was worth £10.9 billion although that had crashed to 4.9 billion in 2020, possibly a casualty of the pandemic (figures from Statista.com). Even at the lower figure the market in footwear is huge with shoes performing well beyond their utility as foot protection to inspire confidence in the wearer and generating sex appeal.
Shoes, especially stilettos, can transform the wearer, physically, aesthetically and emotionally. Women speak about feeling more confident, empowered, attractive and assured when they wear heels. From childhood girls can witness the transformative value of shoes in fairy tales – think of Dorothy’s magical wish-granting red slippers in the Wizard of Oz or Cinderella’s transformation from servant to princess with the aid of glass slippers. There are, therefore, strong emotional and cultural elements attached to wearing heels that go well beyond the basic need for foot protection
Anyway, back to my adventure. By the time I had parked the car and walked between the two shops, my feet were killing me and I was barely reaching tortoise speed. I had a strong urge to simply walk out of my, to be honest, fairly sensible heels in the middle of the men’s department of M&S (the Wing Commander was looking for a new belt…or possibly a shirt – the novelty and potential of being in a shop was getting the better of us) and leave them behind in favour of a bare-footed future.
My pedometer assured me I had walked all of 2000 steps in my heels before I threw them back in their dusty home. About 1800 of these were utterly hellish steps full of pain, torture and danger during which time I could barely conceive of anything beyond my traumatised feet. The torment was all-encompassing and the effort of putting one foot in front of the other more than I wanted to bear. I wanted to inflict real harm on people who forced me to walk around them and add extra steps to my ordeal. It was a relief to get back to the car to head home.
I really do wish I could wear heels. I know I have to wear them on occasion (the last was Baby Bomber’s wedding in 2019 and, beautiful though my shoes were, they were ditched immediately after the ceremony) but I simply hate the pain, the inability to walk in a straight line and the inevitability of falling over. I need some non perambulatory form of transportation for moving around while wearing beautiful shoes. Who will join me in popularising the use of sedan chairs again?
Significantly Different 