I recently spent a week watching women fall over. I didn’t plan to spend Paris fashion week that way but that is mostly how I remember it. At show after show, the moment that snagged in my mind, playing back on a loop, was a model losing her balance and toppling, or snapping a heel and stumbling, or having to kick off a pair of impossible shoes and hold them in her hand while walking the runway barefoot.
At Vivienne Westwood’s show, it was the exaggerated platforms that made the shoes impossible to walk in. A platform sole is a useful trick for adding height without tipping you forward at a vertiginous angle. But when there is more than an inch or two of platform, your connection with the ground disappears and you lose the instinct for which part of your foot needs to take your weight, for balance.
Stepping down from a platform, a willowy model tottered on one towering shoe, rocking in gentle circles like a skittle. For a moment she stilled, and then a Bambi leg crumpled beneath her as she hit the floor, just like Naomi Campbell famously did in 1993. One way or another, there were more falls than a Laurel and Hardy film.
Before that, I had thought it was just me who had forgotten how to walk in high heels. Turns out even the professionals are struggling. Walking in heels is nothing like riding a bike. It’s a lot slower, for a start. It wasn’t just lockdown that put heels out of action, but the long tail of cancelled parties and, for most of us, a new rhythm that involved more time at home, less gallivanting around town.
But the obituaries written last year for the high heel now look premature. Heels are on the rise again, in real life as well as on the catwalk. The question is, how to get back in the saddle?
Mind-bendingly obvious, this, but first things first: there is high and there is too high. The heels you see on red carpets are usually about 10cm. Almost no one can wear these in real life. Even an 8cm heel, standard in lots of stores, is a big ask. For me, 6cm is plenty – that feels and looks like a heel without risking a broken ankle, so if you can filter by heel height online (which you often can, if you fiddle with the filter buttons), do.
But heel height isn’t everything. A shoe needs to be secure to your foot, without being too tight. Mules, where the shoe basically dangles off your toes, are the cryptic crossword of the heel world. As in, I don’t even attempt them because they just make me feel bad. A slingback strap with an elasticated section is ideal for comfort, although you will need a good cobbler to replace the elastic when it loses its tension. Pretty textured socks – glittery ribbed ones, or a posh flecked wool – make strappy sandals easier to wear, as well as keeping you warm.
Oh, and one last thing. You need to learn how to walk all over again. In a high heel you have to take smaller steps than in flats, put your heel down first, and accept that your pace is going to be slower.
This is madness, isn’t it? Why would we put ourselves through it? Perhaps you have resolved never to wear a heel again, in which case I applaud your wise decision. But there is something magical about the extravagant gesture of wearing a heel: the witchcraft of how it shifts your silhouette, the pulse-raising sense of an evening pushed to its limits. Turns out I’m not ready to give up on heels after all. I’m up for the challenge. Though also braced to hit the deck.
Model: Shazeeda at Body London. Hair and makeup: Sophie Higginson using Kiehls and Tom Ford beauty. Leather coat: Mango. Pink heels: Russell & Bromley
