The other day my sweet son was playing with his Aunt LaQuina. She was wearing a pair of those oh-so-fashionable flats that kids these days are sporting. Will bent over, grabbed her shoe and got a confused look on his face. He took his little toddler finger and poked at her flat. He was so confused, where was the heel? Girl shoes have heels!
This made me think, have I set up my child for some kind of unreasonable gender expectation for the rest of his life? The only time I surrendered my heels was within two weeks of my due date (and it may have been due to the ice, not the belly.) When I wear flats I feel like I'm tipping backwards. My idea of reasonable preggo shoes were only 2.5 inch BCBGs. I once beat a man in a backwards foot race, he in his sneakers, me in my four inch black stilettos.
Last week on The OC we had a clear shot of Julie Cooper-Nichol’s shoes and I knew immediately that they were Manolos from his summer line. Carrie Bradshaw and I have nothing in common except for an inordinate amount of shoes. Other Half owns three pairs of shoes: black Docs, blue suede Addidas, and a pair of sport thongs from the BR. I must own at least 100.
Now that flats are all the rage, I feel lost. Lost like a kitten on I-15. Lost like The Minnow. Lost like D.B. Cooper.
I can’t conform. I can’t give up my beautiful gold strappy 3inchers, my camel wedges, the perfect red sandals with a true stack heel, the gorgeous leather black mid calfs from Nine West, the beautiful mary janes that I regretted passing up in the store and found again on ebay, my new olive python d-Orsays, the stretch brown boots that called to me after two years of searching for them from across the aisle at T.J., the silver spike 4inchers, the pair of $300 Ferragamos that I found at D.I. for $4.
Yeah, I wear hot pink heels to Albertsons, want to make somethin’ of it?