The Science of Shoes

It's no secret that I love shoes. From childhood dreams of ruby slippers to my most recent purchase of Steve Madden boots, shoes have been a constant source of excitement and pure idolatrous happiness in my life. But not all shoes are equal.

When standing there in the Steve Madden store, purse in hand, contemplating buying this latest pair, I wondered to myself: Why these boots? Not that anyone should ever need a reason to buy something as fabulous as these tasseled beauties, of course, but I couldn’t help stop and go: Wait a moment. You always said you would never wear such high heels. So why these? They are 15cm's high! Is it the fact that they are Steve Maddens? (A brand I was introduced to by one of my favorite New York bloggers, Gala Darling, and who's picture of a particularly gorgeous pink pair has been the screen saver on my lap top for the past 3 years) Or is it because they are genuine suede, dove-soft, and have tassels? (I have a weakness for tassels - starting with a pair of boots bought a decade ago where I spent my rent money on them.) Is it simply that when presented with an image for long enough, even the abnormally insane can become acceptable and normal to the one perceiving it? 

(Jellies, anyone?) Or is it just a simple little bit of self-medication on a sad day?

 Let's backtrack shall we? Heels have never been a problem for me. Even in all my 6 feet of glory, I have loved the elevation and lift a pair of heels can give a girl’s physique. I feel that this boost has the ability to move beyond the physical, and acts as a sort of mood enhancer on any given occasion. But being 6 feet tall does add some complications to the wearing of extremely high heels. Doorways pose a problem. Even though making an entrance is always important, doorways are only generally so high, and I sometimes walk with a natural little bounce in my step. Bounce at the wrong moment with the 'wrong'/higher pair of heels on my feet and that is one entrance I don't want to make.

I saw these boots on a display with a lot of others. There were others that also had perfect arches, elegant compass worthy curves, decedent finishes. There were others a little lower with amazing scoops at the ankle line with the very best ankle to arch ratio, lovely stitching, sweet smelling leathers and colours. There were even others with tassels. But these particular boots spoke to me - almost reached out with invisible tentacles and drew me to them, as though casting a haunting mermaid song. 

This doesn't always happen. Sure it probably happens to me more often than most, but it doesn't happen with all shoes I ever come into contact with. And that is what got me thinking. Here is a pair of boots I don’t know that I will ever be able to wear out in public (for fear of concussions/breaking an ankle/intimidating Husband to the point of marital detriment) but I simply have to have them. I tried them on and they fit like a glove. Snug all the way up to the tip of the very last tassel! They were mine even before the gold card had a chance to swipe.

Some people say that angels speak to them or they hear voices in their heads? I hear shoes. There is an undeniable, underlying, otherworldly pheromonal attraction that happens with particular pairs of shoes that simply does not happen with others. 

That is when I realized it. Shoes must have an aura, something magnetic on a chemical level. It must be science. So not quite like gravity, but more specific – like the pheromones of a woman attracting a partner. Chemistry attracts us to people at all levels, makes us more comfortable with some and less with others. We choose friends based on this. We choose lovers. Doctors. We even choose teachers, when given the privilege to do so. It’s an invisible world of chemical attraction out there, and we are almost helpless to its currents and tides.

And so when presented with an invisible galactic wave, call it electrons and protons or what-have-you, of glorious tasseled suede Steve Madden's, I grabbed onto those babies and rode for all I was worth.

I am sure there is a scientist out there who can very eloquently disprove everything I have just said, but for now, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Love, lust and fairy-star-dust

Cherry Blossom