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| Instrument of Mass Destruction |
Clogs. I blame Karl L. If Chanel didn't resurrect the Dutch footwear on the SS/10 catwalks, maybe I wouldn't flinch passing Temple Bar. Let me explain. Last Saturday, the sun decided to shine and dare I say, it was warm. With the Fashion Bloggers' Brunch at Milano's that afternoon, I thought it fitting to don my Gestutz maxi dress, satchel and Zara clogs. How very 'Alexa'. After some chow and chat, I made haste to Crow Street for my four o'clock hair appointment at Anthony Murray's. Call it sunny confidence, or two glasses of Pinot Grigio, but I felt cavalier enough to dismount the foot path and traverse the cobbles on five-inch wooden stacks.
Not a good idea. No sooner had I made contact with the inhospitable terrain when I experienced the mother of all speed wobbles...in front of an audience of teenage boys. Kindly they spared my mortification by stifling their laughter. Pride aside, it made me consider the ramifications of literally becoming a fashion victim. Blisters - check, bunions - check, pain-induced weeping - check. Hmm, surely there has to be a way to have one's heels and wear 'em too?
Well, according to London's Institute of Physics, there is a clever formula that can calculate an individual's maximum heel height. Based on Pythagoras' theorem (and you thought you'd never use that outside of the Leaving Cert!), the quantum mechanics takes into account variables such as shoe size, 'pull' factor, cost, years of experience, fashionability and alcohol consumption. If I, for example - a size eight veteran heel fan with almost twenty years' experience, wear the this season's clogs when sober; I can handle an five-inch heel height. However, if I consume three units of alcohol (two small glasses of wine), the 'safe' heel height plummets (along with yours truly). Factor in a stony catwalk and its curtains folks.
Not one to be defeated by fashion's foibles, I've since invested in some sole grips from Aldo which provide enough traction to avoid becoming roadkill. Now it just remains for me to avoid losing a shoe mid-stride. Geisha steps are an option as is the customary toe curl. Although the latter is often accompanied by a constipated grimace. Not a good look. The verdict it seems is still out. Although, most would agree not to trust a man who wears shades indoors; let alone one carrying a mantilla fan. I've got my eye on you Lagerfeld.
