During the past month, the question of whether employers can require women to wear high heels to work has been enthusiastically explored in the media. This is since a woman was sent home from work at a City firm for refusing to wear heels. Read more here.
The debate has widened to include the imposition of dress codes in general, especially in relation to distinctions between the genders, so, for example, sometimes women are criticised for not wearing makeup but this is not something that can be applied to men.
I have long been fascinated by the heel issue in particular and have my own perspective to offer here.
Some time ago, I walked bouncily from my parked car to the gym wearing trainers. In front of me was a younger woman wearing high heels, possibly about three inches. She was, I surmised, one of the therapists on her way to the Spa for work. She wasn’t bouncing. She was hobbling.
As we both walked towards the building, I reflected on the difference between our gaits. Walking is incredible isn’t it? I was enjoying the simple but miraculous activity of walking and the lady in front of me was struggling to put one foot in front of another due to the objects encasing her feet.
We work hard to learn to walk, falling over again and again, and by the time we are at primary school we can walk, run, skip, jump, walk backwards, sideways, stand on tiptoes… As children we are shod in the best fitting, most comfortable and practical shoes our parents can buy for us. Our springiness is not compromised. Until the day when, as little girls, we sneak into our older sister’s or mother’s room and try out their high heeled shoes. Then the tottering begins.
And, yes, it can get better. We can learn to walk in heels, to strut even, elevated above our usual height and feeling grown-up and elegant. What is wrong with that? Absolutely nothing at all.
I have several pairs of high heeled shoes and I love wearing them. I love being taller and feeling elegant and ladylike. The society I belong to has taught me that glamorous, sexy women wear high heels and sometimes I like to be a part of that.
But only when I want to.
At other times, I want to wear shoes that allow me to run, jump and skip. Right now, I am at my desk ready to drive to a work appointment and I am wearing a grey dress and black shoes. Flat ones. I will be able to drive in comfort and negotiate pavements, crossings, stairs and other varied surfaces with ease. My feet and legs will be able to serve me as they were designed to do. Today, that is what I want.
Because this is what I want us to remember:
To someone who’d never heard of, let alone seen or worn, a high heeled shoe, our prized stilettos and kitten heels would look like instruments of torture. Naturally able to run, jump, skip etc, we cram our feet into hard, awkward devices that prevent us from moving in any of these ways. We are forced to take tiny steps, often enduring pain and developing blisters and sores if we try to walk very far. We may totter and find ourselves clinging to the arm of the nearest man (solid and steady in his flat shoes) to keep our balance. Negotiating stairs may slow us down further, while we gingerly place each foot on the next step, carefully holding the rail. When we are finally able to take our shoes off, at home, we inspect the damage, massage our feet and maybe even clean the blood off our shoes before putting them back reverently in their bag or box or on the shoe rack.
Yes, reverently. These may be instruments of torture that can spoil a special occasion and even damage our feet but we covet them, save up for them, drool over pictures of them. The most expensive designer heels can run to eye-watering prices. Not content with causing discomfort to our bodies, we can do significant damage to our finances in our pursuit of the glamorous experience we believe the perfect pair of shoes will deliver.
And once the purchase has been made, we may well share photos on our social media platform of choice, tell our friends and even repeatedly take the new acquisitions out of their box to stroke and admire them.
I say ‘we’ because, yes, I include myself. I make healthy choices for my feet a lot of the time now but I’ve endured my share of painful walking, inhibited activity, blisters and soreness in the past. And I’ve longed for gorgeous, expensive shoes. And sometimes I have bought them.
It’s ok, I’m not saying we should throw away our Manolo Blahniks or Jimmy Choos in order to be true to ourselves. I just wish we could all be free enough to make our own choices, all the time, and to laugh at the absurdity, just sometimes, of paying all that money and getting so excited about something that damages our body and makes it difficult to walk.
Because the way I see it, real freedom would be too laugh at that absurdity while eyeing the gorgeous and very expensive red stilettos that I had chosen myself and paid for with my own money, ready to be worn that very evening. I’d take a taxi though.
Really enjoyed reading this. ‘Heels’ have been on the feminist agenda for ever. Many years ago, I read the marvellous ‘Wild Swans’ and was horrified to learn about the foot binding practices in China. Not only was it considered a sign of beauty but the more sinister side is that women who have to balance on bound feet, with broken toes, have to use their pelvic floor muscles in a different way and strengthen the muscles of the vagina, affording greater sexual pleasure for men. How appalling.
I used to be a heels girl. from the double decker platforms of the 70s through the skyscraper stilletoes of the 80s. Then came pregnancy and swollen feet and the necessity of flat shoes. The joy of having comfortable shoes.
I still have heels, lots of them by fabulous designers, but like you I choose when to wear them. this choice is determined if I am going to a largely sitting down event or if I am walking.
I often have 2 pairs of shoes with me, the ones that make me feel more confident and business like, more feminine and attractive and the ones to slip on for the way home, that are soft flat and quite perfect.
Thank you Juliana we are very much of the same mind with this. My great grandfather was a medical missionary in China and was involved with the then growing anti-foot-binding movement. There is work to be done on his story as we have a lot of his letters.