My (calf-hair) kicks.
I’m five-feet-three-inches tall. Most people—even sometimes my very own husband—don’t realize this, because I spend approximately 93 percent of my life in very high heels.
I’ve been wearing them since I can remember, and as I’ve gotten older, my heels have gotten taller. It’s like taking off the training wheels, over and over again. You ditch the stubby square heels for kitten heels, then you swap these for taller but still walkable heels, and then you’re off on pin-thin stilettos, racing towards osteoarthritis and a life of Dr. Scholls.
But is the age-old equation—high style = higher heels—fading away? And if it is, where does that leave me and my shelves of stilettos, platforms and wedges? Can you really be stylish … in sneakers?
Keep reading for v. important musings.