Diane Clement asked, “Do British women feel the need to teeter around on high heels in their professional lives?? I always feel a bit sad when I see a woman with future foot problems carefully mincing around in them.”
Since I’m as dyslexic about fashion as I am about math, I hadn’t noticed.
How can anyone not notice if another human being is teetering around on something that makes her three inches taller than her normal height and seven times more prone to foot and back problems but that she thinks (and many people agree) make her look fantastic? Trust me, I can. I’m already shorter than 97.3% of the adults around me, so if they all grew by half a foot, what difference would that make to me? I’m already looking up.
Two interruptions here:
- 73.9% of all statistics are made up, including this one, so you should go back and reread the paragraph just above with that in mind.
- Endemic mathematical incompetence is called dyspraxia, not mathematical dyslexia, but it sounds like a disease and I’d much rather think of myself as dyslexic about numbers. I mean, my old friend T. used to claim she became dyslexic anytime she drove in St. Paul, and if she can have geographical dyslexia I don’t see why I shouldn’t have the mathematical form. However, I hate to offend anyone unnecessarily, so in case misusing of the word bothers anyone let’s put it this way: There is nothing involving numbers that I can’t fuck up.
There, that’s less offensive, isn’t it?
But back to high heels, which is our alleged subject. I asked M., who knows all, although I admit that as I phrased the question I didn’t work the teetering or the mincing or the foot problems. Researchers shouldn’t let their biases or anyone else’s get in the way, and I do take this blog seriously.
The short answer is yes—women in Britain tend to wear high heels in their professional lives. Although, M. said, styles do change, and sometimes flat shoes are in fashion, or low heels.
This next bit isn’t entirely relevant, but why should that stop me? The last time—and it was roughly a hundred years ago—that I wore heels of any sort I slipped down half a flight of stairs. The nice thing about my fashion dyslexia is that I now wear running shoes regardless of what’s in style. My feet are happy, and if people think I look funny I’m oblivious, so the rest of me is happy as well. My wardrobe and I are now entirely post-fashion.
Have I mentioned that this isn’t a fashion blog? That won’t stop me from answering fashion questions, but it may stop me from answering them competently.