I can barely see this shoe through the drool I've dripped all over my laptop screen. It's the Liatris from Nine West and three years ago I would have already gone out, bought a pair, and be wearing them pretty much anywhere. Who cares if silver glitter should really only be worn at the discotheque?
Before May 2006 the only flat shoes I owned were havianas and runners. Everything else in my wardrobe had at least a 7cm heel...I wore heels everywhere. I. LOVED. THEM. They way they made me feel sexy, the click they made when I stalked the pavement, the sheer frivolity of them.
Stilettos remained my shoe of choice right up until my eight month of pregnancy when I reluctantly switched to 2cm kitten heels. My poor, swollen feet just couldn't take it anymore.
A week after the birth I was ready for our first outing into the real world - stilettos triumphantly back on now-normal-size feet, stylish nappy bag on shoulder and tiny newborn in arms. I strode confidently out the back door and started down the (rather steep) back stairs...and realised how easy it would be to tumble all the way to the bottom.
That day I bought my first pair of non beach or exercise related flats...and haven't looked back. I now sing the praises of the ballet flat and have enough pairs (plain, satin, jewel-embellished - that's my latest acquisition, the Shima Ballet from Witchery, below) to rival my once impressive stiletto collection. With a toddler and little bub they're the smart choice.
But I still miss my heels. No matter how practical and pretty flats are they just don't hold a candle to the stiletto in the "make me feel like a woman" stakes. So I've made myself a deal...I can buy one pair of terribly impractical, improbably high heels per season and, even if I just wear them to do the laundry, they make me smile.
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