Not until the day I die (ok, maybe not the day I die, but not for a veeeery long time) will I forget the time I slid, slow motion and all, down a sticky, dank, staircase at my first collegiate date party. Donning my tallest polyurethane stilettos- my very finest baby prostitute regalia, I remember thinking I had nailed it. In my mind, I looked like the perfect combination of Beyonce and Michelle Obama- two real lady sophisticates. I suppose that’s what I get for relying on a dollar bin floor mirror and drinking Solo cups-worth full of cheap red wine.
Each thud down that flight of stairs was loaded with resentment for my choice in footwear + immense love for pizza and the hundreds of jars of peanut butter that cushioned my fall. Never underestimate the power of the Freshman 15.
With age, I did not grow wiser. When I began my first San Francisco job over a year ago, I threw on my sky-high pumps and teetered into work every day, wobbling my way up the stairwells, swaying down the narrow halls behind dense racks of performance fleece, skillfully balancing my way all the way back to the bus when the clock struck 5. After work I continued in my teetering: up the stairwells of BART, up and down the hills of San Francisco to meet friends, to make a pit stop at the corner store, teeter, totter, teeter, totter. And occasionally, splat (which is something one really aims to avoid when living in San Francisco).
The bottom line is that there was a lot of teetering happening, and I will tell you it was not as pretty as I imagined it to look.
It was about the time I wrapped up my gig at my first job when I also decided to wrap up my inadvertent career as a stilt performer. I purchased my first pair of block heeled shoes to celebrate my newfound life as practical human being rather than a circus performer, and let me tell you, it was like God himself had dropped them down unto me. Why weren’t babies born with these things on their feet??
And now, I can run my errands looking like this!
Rather than, well…this
Fast forward six years from my unfortunate tumble down frat row, my shoe closet has practically suffered a stiletto genocide. It is on a very rare day and only with Lyft in my back pocket that I will teeter into my office, and only for outfit’s sake. Below are my fave block heels to prevent any falling in…you know…Fall.