Among all the items of clothing and accessories in a women’s closet none have the power to transform her body and mind like a well-crafted, seductively high-heeled stiletto.
By all accounts the high-heel shoe is clearly not designed to be practical, it’s more a labour of love with a somewhat masochistic nature. There’s a certain shoe that she knows will be unbearable by the end of the night but the way her body responds with a roll of the hips and the thrust of the shoulders is utterly irresistible – there is pleasure in pain. The shoe is unforgiving and offers no place to hide, you’re either fully committed to the performance or the shoe will buck and kick like a wild horse refusing to be tamed.
Louboutin said “The stiletto is a feminine weapon that men just don’t have.” – I agree. The transformation that takes place when a women slips in to a pair of stilettos and the radiance of power sexuality is something that completely captivates men without a comparative rival. Most men don’t really see the shoe but we feel the energy, we feel the presence when she walks in to a room or when she glides past us at Liverpool Street station in the summer. It’s like the entire body has been sculpted literally from head to toe. The elongated neck line and the upright position of the head, the drop of the clavicle bone as it sways left to right, the curve in the back that accentuates her arse, the calves that signify she’s mastered the art, not to mention the arch of the instep that resembles the position of the feet when she experiences a deeply satisfying toe curling orgasm.
It’s fair to say that not all women feel the same, some prefer comfortable flats, trainers or the pointless invention that is the ‘kitten heel’. Each to their own and far be it for me, a man to dictate that a women should suffer for my sexual pleasure but being a creature of natural instinct and desire I reserve the right to discriminate as I see fit. This may be a gross generalisation considering my views are heavily shaped by a western mentality due to my geographical disposition but I am yet to meet a woman who is sexually in tune with her body who wears sneakers all day.
There are of course some unfortunate souls who should in my opinion never attempt to wear high heels no more than a bull should attempt to tip toe. Walking in heels is a skill, most of which can be learnt but not all can be taught, and the most tragic of all is the woman who’s completely unaware. I once saw an attractive female with a decent body walk past me in a club with the grace of an orangutan and the posture of a sloth. It was really awful – an image that I never forgot and regardless of how attractive she may have been on the inside I could never be drawn to that. If this makes me shallow then I’d happily own it because despite what some people say, for me the physical is just as important as intellect and sexuality. They’re the three fundamental pillars of attraction and deserve equal prominence in the selection process.
And as for the insecure man who feels too vertically challenged for his women to wear high-heels; this would be laughable if it wasn’t so tragic. The countless times I heard women state that they stopped wearing heels due to an over bearing partner not feeling ‘comfortable’ with her towering over him makes me embarrassed on behalf my gender – are we not men? Give me a fucking break.
With the level of sexual suppression and judgmental scrutiny that exists in so many facets of our society I think we should embrace anything that helps us to express what’s buried deep within. One of the most happiest memories I have was when I spent time in Italy learning the beautiful art of shoe making and experiencing the energy and excitement that a women feels when she finds that special shoe that not only fits her feet, but her heart as well. It’s not just the shoe that you fall in love with; it’s the uncontrollable emotion that you feel in your gut.