“Cinderella’s stepsisters were not desperate for Prince Charming, they were desperate for her glass slipper”

Like any hot-blooded and stylish femme fatale, I am addicted to shoes. This addiction is an affliction that I just can’t get over, no matter how hard I try. I swoon when I hear the word “stiletto” and if I see a pair of bejeweled heels in a shiny shop window I am compelled to run into the shop (yes, run, in heels, absolutely!) and stroke the artistic beauties before I swiftly try them on and buy them. This process can take as few as 5 minutes. But my biggest addiction is boots. At last count I had 43 pairs of high heeled boots, 19 of which are black. So how many pairs of footwear does a girl need? This being a rhetorical question that needs no answer – shoes are the ultimate desirable acquirable, and always will be my biggest love affair!

It is a limitless love that has no boundaries.

Shoes give life meaning and make me happy and I live by the unquestionable fact that a woman can never be too glamorous or have too many heels, and nothing on this planet can bring instant gratification than becoming the proud owner of a new pair of delicately carved heels. Some of us may go through life un-captivated by such frivolities, but even tomboys will eventually get bitten. For myself, I can’t quite remember when that happened, although I do think my Mother’s fixation for dressing me only in red shoes as a child may have had some impact, but as soon as I was out of my Startrites, I was sashaying, and at times wobbling, teetering and falling in stilettos, kitten heels, platforms, wedges – the lot.

Feeding my addiction the smart way.

Yet this unspoken addiction has rules, and usually the higher the heel and the more expensive the price tag, the greater the buzz. I have been known to camp outside Jimmy Choo, Alexander McQueen and Salvatore Ferragamo in the village waiting for them to unpack their latest delivery, hungry for more – and stalk the manageress in Joseph to see if any Prada or Louboutins have come in. Those that know me understand that working in Bicester Village just means feeding my addiction is a little less expensive. With no need to wait for department store annual sales and virtually every luxe designer boutique offering footwear, there are shoes waiting to be bought at silly prices everyday. I have found that Dior has an amazing selection, as do Valentino but my best bargain to date? Jonathan Kelsey for Mulberry pointed toe courts; I bought them in 3 colours and love wearing them.

Feeling the Foot Candy

Why do we ensure pain over comfort? A simple equation offers a simple answer;

This is so true! The higher the heel, the tighter the calf, and the thinner the heel the greater the optical illusion of longer legs and a tighter butt! Skyscraper heels may be instruments of self-torture for some, (forget whether I can walk in them, as long as I can stand in them, they’re mine. Thank you Dr Scholl for Party Feet gels, you saved my red sparkly Vivienne Westwood’s from the back of the cupboard desert) – but for most of us these sometime uncomfortable objects of desire are the only accessories required for instant sexiness and inner confidence and is cheaper than psychotherapy, unless you have a Blahnik fetish, in which case a small bank loan and 6 sessions of Martin’s Money Management classes is required.

I wonder if our love of shoes, especially high heels, is somehow another way of flirting with oneself and not just a way of attracting the attention of Prince Charming?

It is hard for the average male to understand this love affair we have that does not include them. While most of them are shoe-oblivious, trudging through life with the obligatory pairs of black and brown loafers and trainers, we are suffering from Shoe Obsession Disorder, seeking coveted designer shoe bargains, sneaking bags into houses, hiding boxes in the back of cupboards and demanding house extensions as a storage solution to our every growing shoe collection. Of course, we all know that curing our shoe addiction will save money and perhaps our relationships, but being the ultimate desirable acquirables, I wonder if our love of shoes, especially high heels, is somehow another way of flirting with oneself and not just a way of attracting the attention of Prince Charming?

Love Me, Love my Shoes

So what is it with women and shoes?” According to a good friend of mine who just so happens to run my favourite shoe shop:

“Shoes are fun. They are little personalities just waiting to be taken out and shown a good time”

Indeed. Shoes do give instant glamour and a buzz like no other. Unlike shopping for jeans (which is about as much fun as going to the dentist), shopping for shoes is an exhilarating experience. Feet don’t have hips, feet don’t have thighs. Feet are our friends.

With the right shoes, we can slip on a whole new image. Shoes give men a reason to notice our ankles and legs and when a man compliments our shoes, we know he understands us and has taken a look into the window of our soul. Men, take note. Tell us we have great shoes and watch our face light up, it’s the best possible chat up line you can use. Just remember that contrary to popular belief, Cinderella’s stepsisters were not desperate for Prince Charming, they were desperate for her glass slipper.

Skyscraper Highs:

• We get taller!
• Legs look longer & feet seem smaller.
• We get J-Lo defined glutes
• We have instant gratification.
• They always make us feel sexy, even on a bad day.
• When they are broken, we can get them fixed!

Skyscraper Lows:

• We get foot pain but so what? We now have Party Feet gel pads.
• We can fall over, but then alcohol and uneven pavement has the same effect.
• We can get into a situation where one more step is unbearable, which is why we have taxis!