Start From The Bottom Up

But before you rush out and into a pair of Candies, let me give you some pointers. I personally ponder the perfect kitten heel almost as much as I do the safety and welfare of my child. I've been hospitalized for going too long between shopping excursions (the nurse claimed it was dehydration, but I know the truth). When I'm feeling poor or pitiful, I duck down the rabbit hole, slip on a pair of cork wedges and emerge a new, more fabulous me. Some days, I sit inside the closet just to be among friends. When a new addition arrives, he or she (loafers, flats and motorcycle boots are male) is welcomed with open uppers, presented with its plastic box and registered in the log. My shoes have been with me through thick and thin, offering me solace against the unforgiving world and elevating even the most suspect of ensembles. Some are older than my marriage. Most are older than my son. Not to say that I love my family any less, but cards on the table. I've got scores of childbearing years left and I can always remarry. We all know how much a pair of good shoes can set you back.

Forgive me an endorsement or two. Jimmy Choo is my favorite. A glimpse of the sculpted heel is enough to make me green with envy. If I were that curvy, classy and timeless, I'd be a Coke bottle. But what truly sets a Choo apart is on the inside. The padded insole rivaled only by the most expensive tennis shoes. The brilliant leather sole renders the idea of slippage nearly impossible. Jimmy Choo shoes, unlike a lot of their contemporaries, are comfortable. I once fluttered around my apartment wearing Choo (no-one schleps in Choo) on my left and Blahnik on my right and still could not figure out what it was about the former. My standing hypothesis is that the heel is decidedly wider at the top than on the Blahnik shoe, allowing more of the weight balance on the heel rather than the arch. Functional elegance, dahling. It's a rare and beautiful thing. Remember this.

Manolo Blahnik, on the other hand, is style defined. The craftsmanship is impeccable and the leather, the finest. I fondly remember my first pair of Manolo Blahnik's. They were an eyelash bat of an eBay purchase for which I paid a paltry three hundred dollars. I wouldn't sleep until I knew what all the fuss was about. As soon as they came in the mail, I took one look at the plain black and white box and scoffed. Was this packaging made by Lighthouse for the Blind or did someone in the design department forget to take their creativity pill? My doubt was soon quieted when I opened the box. There suddenly came a mighty shout from the heavens and some Josh Grobin music. I was face to face with my soul mate. Backlit by a divine glow were a pair of metallic gold stiletto strappy sandals. Trembling with anticipation, I slid my foot inside and sighed peacefully. The shoe made my foot look sexy. Prior to the Blahnik experience, I avoided open, barely-there sandals as they made my feet look like Yeti transplants. But Manolo Blahnik squashed that fear forever. However, a word to the wise: don't wear your Blahniks for more than a couple hours at a time, unless you enjoy being in murderous, bunion hell.

While I do enjoy the finer things in life, I am criminally cheap by nature. I'm here to tell you that you don't have to wear your rent on your feet to look great. My favorite shoe store in the world is Payless. A smorgasbord of inexpensive shoes (most no more than $20), you can indulge your shoe fetish without the slightest guilt. While the shoes aren't the best quality, the store has really come around in the last decade or so. It used to be a joke that your Payless shoes were like Gremlins: you never got them wet and you never wore them after midnight. After midnight, your heels may very well crack off into flats and your flats into soleless footie socks. These days, we can find the latest styles in mule, heel and sneaker at Payless. Sure the shoes may not last forever, but if I'm ever about to faint from shopping withdrawal, Payless is my resuscitation chamber. As an aside, I've recently found a British version online called in a store called Kays. Good to know in case I have a shopping breakdown while touring Europe. But there have to be more like them. Take a look around. You won't be disappointed.

I once read that appearance is crucial to our personal marketing. Every day, we're marketing ourselves to someone whether we intend to or not. Too often we as women let family, home or career stand in the way of claiming our God-given right to look gorgeous. And feet are just the beginning. How often do you leap out of bed, minds recycling the things we've dared ourselves to accomplish in a mere 24 hours? How many times have you slipped on worn-over sneakers and shapeless sweatpants to rush the kids off to school or pop into the store for a loaf of bread? How many times do you look over your shoulder during the day, knowing that Trinny and Suzanna are just an instep behind you? If you've ever been out with a family member and they pretended not to know you, print this column and tape it to your refrigerator.

Put your ear to the screen and listen carefully. Shoes are like compliments. You can never have too many. With a great pair of shoes, you can stand up to your boss, pay your water bill on time and stamp out world hunger. So this year, don't fret if your Valentine's Day feels more like Groundhog Day when he trots out the chocolates and huge stuffed animal. Don't roll your eyes when he slides you a pair of fuzzy handcuffs and pint of massage oil. Take it from me, when your feet are being caressed by a pair of incredible shoes, nothing else matters. Love knows no boundaries, only shoe size. Besides, if worse comes to worse and he still isn't behaving, a four inch heel makes an excellent weapon.