My mother would warn me off these shoes. Let's face it, the 6 inch heel is a height best described as "ankle-breaking" and pewter glitter isn't exactly practical. But that's why they’re perfect. As far as I’m concerned, the more impractical the shoe, the better - they’re forbidden fruit in footwear form.
You see, when I was a little girl, shoes were... difficult. "You've inherited my feet," my mother would tell me, slipping her broad feet into a pair of sensible but ugly sandals. A woman who has never been able to wear heels, she tried to prepare me for a life of plate-shaped feet.
I got older, but not much taller - stopping just shy of 5 foot 2. My feet were wide, sure, but I wasn’t ready to give up on heels. I vowed to train my feet to accept them, and started traipsing around in cheap, uncomfortable 3 inch platforms in an attempt to appear just a little bit taller. Oh, there were blisters. There was pain. There were far too many tripping incidents from overly spacious pairs. But I persevered… and it started to work.
The shoes got nicer (and pricier). And my feet adjusted - high heels were no longer out of bounds. I scoffed at the sensible 3-inchers of my past and started living life a good 5 inches taller, made all the more satisfying knowing that I was challenging my flat-footed destiny.
These shoes - these fabulous, sparkly shoes - are the embodiment of all of that. I shouldn't be able to wear them. I should just give up and choose a sensible pair instead. But the best pairs of heels AREN'T sensible. They're a luxurious, naughty treat, and what could be more glorious than wearing such a guilty pleasure on your feet?
P.S. Not that rhapsodising about beautiful shoes is unusual for me, but in case you were wondering, this was my competition entry to become a Sarenza ambassador. DREAM COME TRUE.