These days I am less and less interested in high heels. I'm a comfortable walking cliché in my sensible flats. That's not to say I didn't have my obsessions. In my early twenties I was so obsessed with the highest heel, mastering the nonchalant power walk in 4+ inches of height, pretending that I was immune to the pain of wearing them because I enjoyed how tall and mature that made me feel in those moments of excruciating foot-numbing pain.
Epic LOLZ as they say.
Cut to me, with my thirties well in my sights, These days the only high heels that interest me are the ones I can wear with almost anything: from a client meeting, to a lazy outfit with boyfriend jeans. These Isabel Marant lace-up heels are reminiscent of those epic Aliaia heels that were the rage a couple years ago, and with the 75% sale price I got them for? They are a real bargain.
Sure, my legs may not be the twiggy sinuous zero-fat environment that Giovanna Battaglia is toting around, but I frankly don't care because I feel fantastic (to quote great Shania Twain, I feel like a goddamn woman). Even in this androgynous block dress by Kaarem, I feel like a pretty young thing, and any shoes that achieve that sort of self confidence are worth the temporary pain — at least until I take them off again and slip on my Newbarks to commute home on BART.
Ladies, do you feel me?
PS: Thank you a million times for all the advice on the previous Mansur Gavriel Lady Bag debate. I'm so grateful and lucky to have people who just get it. I'm commitetd to being debt free and returned the Mistake Gavriel!
