A Day in Heels!

0700. I have a long day ahead of me, and I’ll have to run around a lot in the summer sun. And at the end of all the running and sweating, I’ll have to look super-duper polished for an interview. Should I really go for heels? What would the old goddesses of style say? Anna Dello Russo’s words instantly come to my mind, “In heels, your confidence, it goes uppp, thee flaats, they makke you feel likke a mouse!”

0900. Needless to say, I have chosen heels, six inch nude pumps to be precise. I arrive at my destination, feeling not any less glamorous than Carrie Bradshaw. And as promised by Anna Dello Russo, I do feel confident and powerful.

1000. Confidence level still sky high. Long Live Anna Dello Russo!

1100. The heels are not helping me run around; they are slowing me down real bad. Then the God of heels, Christian Louboutin, appears in my head. He is serene and Buddha like, and so are his words (which are from one of his interviews). “Why are you always running? Where are you running to? Heels help you slow down and take a more luxurious pace.” Amen.

1300. My inner Carrie Bradshaw is starting to wane, as my feet begin feeling the first pangs of pain. Should I have packed a pair of ballet flats in my 2BHK sized tote? But then I shush these doubts. Flats are for mere mortals, I am the Spartan of heels. Now I feel like King Leonidas (except I’m still glamorous thanks to my heels), ready to die for my cause.

1500. The king Leonidas reference was perfect, because now this literally feels like going into battle. Walking has never been more painful. I am slowly beginning to curse Russo, wondering why she gives such horrible advice. While she has chauffeurs to drive her around for the tiniest of distances, we have to depend on, well, our feet!

1600. Well, what can I say, except for “Time wounds all heels.” The back of my feet are now scraped raw and about to bleed. I stuff cotton in the back of my shoes, to keep me going for an hour or so more till this ordeal ends.

1700. The day has finally ended and I am in my car. The wounds on the back of my feet are beginning to bleed a little. Who do I feel like now? Achilles, brought down by my ‘heels’.

Photo courtesy: www.garancedore.fr

 

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