Some of us who are not 29 anymore, and not 39 (don't even ask) do not always look at stilettos and think GIMME! We may secretly look at them and think: How can I look that good and not fall down? We see somebody who is 29 or 39 and she walks like she's dragging a sled full of rocks because her feet hurt, and we may think: I can look that worn out without paying $600.
In not exactly the Jurassic era, but quite a while ago, I had the most incredible stilettos and I was in Indiana! I'm pretty sure springolaters no longer exist--a secret device kept the shoe on the foot with only the tiniest bit of a strap. The heels on mine were green, like the incredibly thin stem of a flower. The beautiful rose petals were all around my heel! A half inch of black crepe crossed my toes. Since then, shoe-wise, it's been all downhill.
I do still have a pair of real heels in the closet--very businesslike Mary Janes, more boardroom sturdy than stiletto. The last time I wore them was, of all the places not to wear them, a tour of a zillion room mansion. Forbidden to sit on the furniture (some of it no doubt borrowed for the occasion) I thought I was going to scream.
Actually, when I said my shoe life was downhill, I meant until last summer's magic sandals. These are by no means stilettos, but the cunning little heels are shaped like no other heels, and the soles are actually the shape of my feet (rather than the shape of Manolos.) When I put them on, the magic sets in.
Beware of magic shoes. They feel like a visit from The Prince with the glass slipper. You will find yourself dancing. Even if you're too serious to find yourself dancing, they sneak up on you and make you strut! You've been warned.
What makes you strut? A certain dress, some boots, or real stilettos? Dare you to tell!