A couple of years ago, soul-singing legend extraordinaire Patti Labelle made a guest appearance on The Wendy Williams Show. After being introduced to an audience of adoring fans, I watched Ms. Labelle slowly tip her way on unsteady toes from stage right to the couch opposite of Wendy. Her face was a half smile, half grimace. She was seriously failing to hide whatever pain she was in.
“Oh Patti, what’s wrong?” Wendy noticed and was sincerely concerned.
“Honey, these shoes are killing me!” Patti exhaled as she took a seat. Relief washed over her face.
“Those stilettos are gorgeous! Oh, the price we pay for beauty,” Wendy gushed.
“Why?” I yelled at the television screen before switching the channel.
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I often scream the same question inside of my head as I notice the high-heeled students clickety-clacking across the floor of The Hub. Yes, the shoes are mad sweet in all of their CFM, fashion-forward glory. No, I wouldn’t mind having a pair of my own. However, I emphatically refuse to sport those cute little numbers around the halls of this school for upwards of six hours at a time. I have three primary reasons.First and foremost, I don’t like pain. It hurts me. No matter how many inserts I’ve purchased, I’m usually teetering à la Patti Labelle by the second hour of wear. I no longer care to smile. I pretty much hate everyone and everything.
Second, I’m not sure who I would be attempting to impress. My teachers? My fellow students? I think my best accessory is my attitude. I won’t be dissuaded from this idea. I’ve seen some pretty stupid-looking fashion trends in top magazines but the people wearing them pull them off because they are confident. I think I can make a pair of flat boots sizzle. I believe.
Finally, I value my safety. Call me paranoid, but I like to be able to run at a moment’s notice. I would hate to ruin a perfectly good pair of dinner-and-a-movie shoes trying to escape from someone or something. Plus, I would to hate to fall over and knock out a couple of teeth. Definitely not a good look.
Admittedly, I do like how high heels make me feel inside. Sexy, powerful, chic. I suppose that may be the reason why I see my fellow students marching on in their stilts. Perhaps that is why Patti was willing to subject herself to that degree of pain in front of millions. I wish that science would produce a combat-ready, pain-free four inch stiletto. However, neither science nor fashion has been able to make that miracle happen. Until then, I will take my chances in low heels and flats. If I end up owing a fine to the fashion police, so be it.
