I came home yesterday with a fantastic pair of Christian Louboutin heels - sexy, edgy, cool - everything you want in a pair of heels. Of course, they're also a good four inches high so they will require me to get comfortable with them before I can actually wear them to go out. I was excited to show them to my husband because I thought for sure he too would appreciate their beauty or at the very least would find them irresistibly sexy. Apparently, I was wrong. As I teetered somewhat perilously on my beautiful, sexy new shoes, all I could focus on was how exquisitely made the shoes were while all he could focus on was how difficult it seemed for me to walk in them. Finally, after about a half hour of my prancing around in them, he inquired whether I would be returning them. "Why on earth would I do that?" I asked incredulously. "Well, they're nice but you can't actually walk in them" he replied sensibly. "And they look like the pair you bought a few weeks ago when we were in Paris" he added. "These are by Louboutin, the ones I bought in Paris were by Pierre Hardy" I answered somewhat tersely. An uncomfortable pause followed our brief exchange as we then proceeded to go about our own business.
I must admit, I was pretty peeved at his reaction. After all, I was starting to get the hang of walking in them. But, as I continued to admire my beautiful shoes, my irritation subsided and it dawned on me just how diametrically opposed my perspective was to his. Whereas he saw them as mere shoes, a piece of apparel designed to protect your feet from the elements while you walk from point "a" to point "b", I saw them as so much more. To me (as to most women), shoes are an accessory, a personal statement, an extension of my personality. The shoes are also an example of exquisite craftsmanship akin to a work of art - the arch of the shoe, the shape of the heel, the quality of the materials, the vibrancy of the colors. In fact, there are some shoes that make me feel happy just by looking at them (a certain pair of purple patent leather slingbacks from Marc Jacob's very first shoe collection for Louis Vuitton come to mind). And let's not forget how fantastic the right shoe can make your legs and bottom look. Why else would we subject ourselves to the pain and discomfort? But of course, I suppose that may be a lot for any straight man to grasp. After all, the range of footwear available for men is pitifully limited and most of it is by definition comfortable. How then could I possibly expect him to understand why I succumb so willingly to the appeal of a gorgeous shoe? Perhaps only another shoe addict would get it. So, in short, I am most certainly not taking them back but in fairness, I won't expect him to understand the allure of a fabulous shoe either.
Did I say I was buying them to walk in? Well then?
Comments