I don’t normally post about fashion – I am not a great one for following the trends and I am happiest sitting around in my comfies and fluffy bathrobe. But, occasionally, I like to get dressed up and make an effort, especially for special occasions, such as New Years Eve 2016. I bought myself an out-of-my-comfort-zone new black lace top, which I love, went dark with the eye make-up (‘why are your eyes so black, Mummy?’) and went to a house party to celebrate the dawning of the new year.
And this is where this post comes in. Whilst there, I couldn’t take my eyes off my friend’s gorgeous, sparkly, silver high heels. She looked amazing, swanning around her kitchen in the perfect mix of casual (jeans) with glam. And I was so jealous. Anyone who knows me may be surprised. I am of the cherry-red Doc Martins era – a 90s child who was happiest in clumpy boots and Pearl Jam t-shirts. My 20s saw a brief foray into heels as I suddenly discovered my girlie side, but these were subtle, with me not really wanting to stand out from the crowd. My early 30s were baby filled – my days spent wearing trainers with only occasional nights out that warranted the wearing of heels. I do remember seeing my sister wearing some gorgeous, black, subtly sparkly heels one Christmas when I was pregnant with my daughter and I vowed I would get them in the sales…and I did.
Those shoes now stare at me teasingly, taunting, every time I open my wardrobe door. You see, my sudden inability to walk in heels was, looking back, one of the first signs that something wasn’t quite right with my body. I have written before about how my MS symptoms gradually started emerging, after 18 years of having so-called ‘benign MS’. Well, in hindsight, my difficulties walking in heels, with my left ankle continually over turning, was perhaps a subtle clue as to what would be happening to my balance and coordination over the coming years. This difficulty eventually became so pronounced that I never did get to wear those heels. I keep them for the purposes of admiring, wishful thinking and dress-up (my daughter Ava, not me). Ava always asks if she can have them when she is older… I often wonder whether she will still want them when she is older (I remember lusting after some black patent 80s heels of my Mum’s, when I was Ava’s age), but I am happy to keep them for her.
So, even though I was never a massive shoe-lover, I now torment myself with looking at shoes that I can never wear – a bit of ‘heel porn’, if you wish. It sounds mega depressing and defeatist, but I sometimes console myself with the idea that, if I end up needing to use a wheelchair more permanently in the future, at least I can cheer myself up by having fabulous shoes that I otherwise wouldn’t be able to wear.
In the meantime, I am on the look out for dressy, sparkly flats (preferably with straps so they don’t fall off) – does such a thing exist?