Well, that's what I call them anyway. Perhaps you know the ones I mean? Fabulous shoes that make you look stylish. Sensational shoes that make you feel sexy. Awesome shoes that unfortunately will only take you from the car to the restaurant before the balls of your feet start to burn. Shoes that should have no place in the wardrobe of a woman of my age and supposed wisdom. Ha!
To be fair I've avoided the lure of such footwear for the last four years. A combination of uneven paving slabs, a ticking clock and a pair of red patent peep toe 4 inch wedges left me with a flake fracture, torn ligaments and a new respect for 'killer heels'. My shoe cupboard has become a heel free zone.
There are times however when only a pair of Stupendous shoes will do, when the fear of possible injury must be overcome for the sake of stately extra inches and well defined calves. My sister-in-law is getting married in a couple of weeks and I felt it was time to loosen my self imposed stiletto embargo. These were the result.
I didn't actually mean to get a pair that were quite so high. I blame the need to colour match them to my dress. These were the only pair I could find that were exactly the right shades ( yes, my dress is pink and orange, part of the whole getting used to colour I mentioned way back here, but it is tempered with some ivory and beige, can't have me getting too carried away now can I)
Having worn flatties for the last few years I look upon my new shoes as something of a challenge. I thought it would be best to wear them a few times before the wedding, breaking them in so to speak as well as acclimatising myself to the thinner air at altitude. So for the last few weeks I've been prancing around in them while doing my chores, much to the hilarity of the men of the house.
The highlight for my charming family came when I went to do the ironing. I stood for a good 5 minutes trying to work out why the board was jamming at a lower level than normal. Try as I might I couldn't get the damn thing to rise high enough. It was bad enough when my own stupidity dawned on me, that moment when I realised the board wasn't shorter, I was taller. But my dopiness had been witnessed, and judging by the incredulous looks and voluble mirth I doubt very much if I'll ever be allowed to forget it.
I've given up practising and have decided that if I get my 6 foot plus boys to walk at either side of me I can hook my arms through theirs and they can hoist me up half an inch. It's a bit early in the year for 'walking in the air' but needs must. Besides, having done it for them so often when they were younger I think its payback time.
One last thing before I go. Since it took soooooo long finding the shoes I decided it would be easier to make a bag myself. As luck would have it I had some pink silk in my stash and wonder of wonders it was a match. As my sewing skills still aren't quite back to normal I cheated slightly and bought a clutch case and frame. My slightly wobbly hand was actually a boon when it came to spreading the glue :o) I think it turned out rather well if I do say so myself.