Lordy Lordy, I own 15 pairs of heels. That’s 30 single heels, and 15 pairs I never wear. Plus the 3 pairs I bought on my recent 3 week holiday – that’s one pair for each week I was away.
I am in love with heels, and with the idea of wearing heels, but can never bring myself to actually leave the house in a pair. I have a mild phobia of looking too “done”. I gaze at casual heel wearers in awe, but I myself am always afraid of looking overdressed. But after unpacking the three latest purchases from my holiday luggage and discovering that I have no room for them to live - despite my entire bookshelf devoted to shoes – I decided that this silliness had better stop. For a while I excused my obsessive heel buying as “like buying a piece of art”, but 15 unworn pieces of art lying around is a bit ridiculous. Wearing my flats all the time is a bad habit, and wearing heels is a good habit. I just have to force myself out of my bad habit and into a good habit. My theory is that practice makes perfect.
Over the course of a few late hours and a few too many glasses of Riesling, I hatched what I thought at the time to be a cunning plan. I would endeavour to wear high heels for all of my waking hours for the next week - A: in order to get into a habit of wearing them more often, and B: in order to get some cost-per-wear out of my shoe collection. Up until now I’ve been practically losing money.
My week begins on Tuesday, as the post-unpacking from holiday brainwave struck late on Monday night. My only quandary is how to get around the dog-walking chore, as it is more like dog running, and ladies never run in high heels. The dog must be exercised, so if you will allow me a brief daily reprieve, I promise to make it up to you by spending an entire night until morning in my stilettos.