Why I Will Never Wear This Stylish Shoe Again

For years, I was convinced that high-heeled shoes were a "must-have" when dressing up. They were the price of entry for a well-curated look even when they left me with blisters, nagging physical discomfort, and feet swollen like pudgy loaves of sourdough fresh from the oven.

I had heels of every shape and color. Pumps, wedges, open-toed sandals, tall-heeled boots, short and medium booties, leather shoes, suede shoes, fabric-lined and faux-furred shoes, and high-heeled and medium-heeled ankle boots. I had ballet flats, smoking slippers and jeweled sandals, chunky platforms, Uggs, Birkenstocks, Sketchers and Jellies. For a time, I bought moccasins from Thailand likely handstitched and embroidered by Monks, old fashioned penny loafers, espadrilles and slingbacks. If a shoe was pretty, artful, funky or unusual, I owned it., even if it was incredibly uncomfortable.

And If there were a shoe designer I could afford (and even some I couldn’t), I coveted their wares. I was just like Carrie Bradshaw.. Shoe shopping was a competitive sport, and I played to win.

I shopped sales, often bought online and cherished any celebrity getting into the shoe game, as well as shoes from new designers I discovered. I had shoes from Jessica Simpson, Sarah Jessica Parker, Steve Madden, Salvatore Ferragamo and Stuart Weitzman. I looked for vintage Manolo Blahnik and Christian Louboutin shoes and, yes, I owned a pair of Jimmy Choos.

Maybe it was the compliments I craved from friends and strangers who often told me how pretty my shoes were. No matter if your weight is up or down or you’re dressed casual, sporty or dressy, shoes always fit and elevate your look. Heck, your butt even looks better in heels, and you always look five pounds thinner due to the way your legs are elongated, and the way you’re forced to puff your chest out and sway your back slightly to balance on your toes.

When I’d go to my industry conferences, writer friends would check out my shoes, and always comment about their color, shape, style or heel height. 

Once I ordered a pair of teal suede pumps to match a dress I was wearing to a conference from the sexy catalog pages of Victoria’s Secret. The shoes arrived the night before I was to leave and I couldn’t walk in them. Sure, they were heels, but it wasn’t their height that had me stymied. I literally couldn’t stand upright wearing them.

When my daughter took me to the airport the next day, she examined the shoes, tried them on, watched me try to walk in them. “They’re defective,” she said. “Return them.”