tunage: perpetual motion, by bela fleck
also the shepherd’s dog, by iron & wine
for a long time i have been a flats kind of girl. i’ve eschewed high-heeled shoes as impractical and painful devices created solely for the purpose of … well, i’ll admit my argument never got that far. but content i was to bump along the ground in my flat, flat shoes, not minding those soaring above me in heels.
then i had a job interview last august and discovered wedge heels. they made me taller, but i still felt like i was wearing flats. it was amazing! i was no longer against the wearing of heels. i was strangely enchanted by this grownup, ladylike footwear, so much so that i bought a rather scandalous (but very cute!) pair of them this february to wear to a banquet. well, okay, i guess they’re not so scandalous, but they were slightly “out there” at first for me, the girl who wears dark colours almost all the time and whose formal wardrobe consists of 95% black dresses and skirts. but what can i say — black goes with everything.
anyway, i am no longer against heels as a race of shoes, and i promptly went out and bought another pair for Easter/spring once i realized my only non-black or -brown dress shoes were white open-toed sandals. can’t wear those when it’s 40 degrees outside. granted, i did look at all the flats shoe carnival had to offer before settling on the pair i did buy, but nothing could compare with the classy, slightly quirky shoes i’d had my eye on all along.
fast-forward to today. i returned to work from lunch and was making my way into the building when i noticed heathcliff and the smallish, earnest and very Russian-looking fellow he hangs out with also returning from lunch (i think this second man might actually be named david, but in my mind he is definitely a dmitri ladislaus). all of a sudden i got rather nervous and a-frighted, so i stormed into the building with as much dignity as i could muster and literally ran up the two flights of stairs to my third-floor office. and all of this in the pair of 2.5-inch heels i’d put on this morning. phew! i was slightly breathless when i touched down in my cube, and i wasn’t sure exactly why i’d gone to the trouble of running up all those stairs, but i knew i’d just accomplished what i’d told my co-worker the week before — that all women have to know how to run in high-heeled shoes.
for more about the delights of high heels, with perhaps less trauma than my accounts seem to include, i suggest you visit miss b. at her adorable and aptly-named site, running in high heeled shoes.