Heel The World

As I am inundated with images of the US First Lady (and not exactly most popular) in the form of memes and some terribly poor sexist jokes, my eyes are always inevitably on her shoes. Are they high enough? Sharp enough? Seriously good-looking enough? Can they carry the weight of the title of the US First Lady who is a former model known for raunchy spreads? There are very few people in this world who have decoded the mysterious connection between power, sexuality and slim high heels (platform, wedges do not count). Those who did, built an empire on the tip of the stiletto. Ask the men at Dior.

Speaking of killer heels, I am reminded of Claire Underwood, the enigmatic first lady from House of Cards (which never fails to remind one of the current political situation in the US). Played to perfection by the gorgeous Robin Wright, she has a wardrobe to die for, a sharp bob that accentuates her chiselled jaw line and fierce hips that sway to slay. Claire is sexy, powerful and means business. But I am not sure if she would have had the same impact minus those six-inch stilettos that make her look taller, sexier, more powerful. The only time she takes them off is when she goes for a run or goes to sleep. Heck, she even preps the odd dinner in her heels and makes the mundane chore of chopping salad look like a scene from an erotic film.

But then, Priyanka Chopra went swimming in her Loubs too.

In a fabulous book, Shoes: An Illustrated History, author Rebecca Shawcross talks about how the modern day stiletto emerged as a symbol of feminine sexuality and power. And it is all thanks to: “Venetian prostitutes, British queens and French designers.” That and the fact that Marilyn Monroe, the most enduring sex symbol ever, immortalised diamonds and stilettos should tell you why some of us are okay with walking from boardrooms to the boudoir in our stilettos. After all, Monroe is the one who famously said: “I don’t know who invented the high heel, but women owe him a lot.”

Back home, more than three years in motherhood, I recently decided to pamper myself. I bought a pair of sleek, sharp black heels on a whim. As I slipped into my guilty pleasure, I felt as though I was reclaiming a small but important part of myself. I tottered for a while, giddy with the rush that comes when you first learn how to ride a bike or… in a different time… hold a plank for three minutes. The world may have seen a rotund 40-something woman waddling her way around a coffee shop. In my head I was doing a Marilyn. It was the sexiest I had felt in a really long time.

(Scribbler, scribe, traveller — Chandrima Pal takes you through the sexual landscape of today)

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