The Power of Red Shoes

In the past week, I’ve worn my glorious sparkly red ‘grown-up Dorothy’ stilettos twice. It’s been fun and I’ve enjoyed the comments and, I’ll admit it, the envy from others. They are the kind of shoes that grab people’s attention.

Every time I wear them, I go through a silent and intense debate beforehand. Maybe I’m getting a little bit too old to be tripping about in 3-inch heels, particularly when they are covered in tiny red sequins and have silver glitter on the soles. Surely by the time you’re looking at 40 in the rearview mirror, you should be past such silly, impractical vanities. The words ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ echo in my head.

Perhaps age isn’t the issue. Perhaps I should be more concerned that an intelligent, well-read woman would find such a frivolous fashion indulgence appealing in the first place. What does the fact that I get such a buzz from wearing sparkly red heels say about my self-esteem, my mental image of myself and my general views on the rights of women to wear comfortable, practical clothing that doesn’t kowtow to superficial societal pressures regarding appearance?

So why do I wear them? Why do I enjoy them so much despite the slight ache in my feet at the end of the night and the mental debate before I leave the house?

When it comes down to it, it has very little to do with the actual shoes, as lovely as they are. What they represent to me is not only freedom to be myself, but a willingness to actually stand out and have others notice me doing so. Wearing them is an act of bravery and defiance, not simply because at my advanced years I’m risking doing a hip if I lose my balance,but rather because I am drawing attention to myself and owning my new confidence.

I love these shoes, because they were part of a real turning point in accepting

My grown-up Dorothy shoes (Photo: Blue Hippo Photography)

that I didn’t have to be limited by the expectations of others or my own unrealistic ideas of who I ‘should’ be. My life doesn’t have to be seamlessly consistent. I can have moments of silliness and indulgence, moments of random enjoyment and frivolous pleasure and still be a responsible and intelligent person. Being multi-faceted isn’t a handicap. Our inconsistencies and contradictions are part of what make us human and buying these shoes was the point where I accepted the need to express the random, quirky side of myself as much as I do the more serious, sensible side.

I’m not quite sure how I manage to cram all that meaning and all those expectations into a pair shoes, but I do. It’s a sign of my pathological need to overthink things, but I’m accepting that about myself too, so that’s alright.

So far, I’ve worn my sparkly red shoes out to dinner, to Christmas parties, to a school reunion, to #NewyTwistmas and even to a meeting with a teacher at my 13-year-old son’s school (at her request after he told her his mum was just a little bit crazy and mentioned my shoes as supporting evidence). I’ve worn them to visit the divine Miss Ivy in hospital (unashamed shoe admirer that she is) and I will no doubt wear them to all sorts of places in the future.

I will wear them because they make me happy, not because I’m shallow but because sometimes I need an outward reminder of inner changes, a trophy representing inner battles fought and won. And I will wear them because they are pretty and they make me smile and sometimes that is all the reason I need.