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Just to show that I am not alone in having a love affair with shoes, here are a few articles that have been sent to me that would suggest that their are many others that feel the same as I when it comes to the subject of footwear.  

This first article was sent to me by my sister CAT.  She also sent it to our older sister Samantha, who is in total denial about the subject !  However, I should point out the fact that on Samantha's web site she has a link to the "Classic Pumps" web site, and knows the owner on a first name basis! 

The Sole of the Shoe Shopper

From stilettos to sling backs, women love their footwear

Leigh Grogan / Sacramento Bee

November 30, 2005
One should never underestimate the deep bond between a woman and her footwear.

As a fairy-tale feminist, Cinderella was always a step ahead -- no glass ceilings for her, just a pair of dainty, breakable slip-ons.

Sure, she snagged a prince and a palace. But her transformation from a girl of servitude into a woman of strength is the real lesson. Or so author Susan Reynolds believes.

Where Cinderella's shoes were a gift from her fairy godmother, in real life, women in the United States spent close to $20 billion on shoes last year. Female footwear fanatics filled their closets with everything from $16.99 Highlights from Payless to $900 Christian Louboutin platforms from Paris.

Cinderella, Reynolds says, holds the answer as to why the appeal is so strong.

"Cinderella is one of those archetypal images you can't forget. She appears in more than 700 cultures dating back to the ninth century in China," she says. "Her shoes play such a big part in the story because they're a symbol of her realizing who she is."

If you change your shoes, can you really change your attitude, your personality? Reynolds believes you can so much that she wrote a book on the subject. "Change Your Shoes, Change Your Life" (Polka Dot Press, $14.95) illustrates how shoes can be potent symbols of a woman's stability, pizzazz, sexiness and, yes, even her power.

In real life, Cinderella's modern-day sole mates are women who are truly enamored by shoes.

Alison Rodney, an attorney from Birmingham, frequents her favorite Royal Oak shoe store called Sole Sisters or a department store shoe aisle almost weekly. She explains her shoe fixation in one phrase: They always fit.

"They always look good," she says. "Pants might not fit or might not look flattering, but the shoes always fit. I think that has a lot to do with it."

The other draw, she says, is that new shoes jazz up even the most basic outfit. That's why she owns about 100 pairs.

"I go for what I think looks good and what's fun and unique," says Rodney, 35. "I have some that are expensive, and some from DSW."

Elizabeth Scott Warren, 35, of Richmond, Va., is a little more extreme.

"I have a couple hundred pairs. And once a week, I usually get a new pair," says Warren, who works for a technology consulting firm and has been encouraged by friends to one day open a shoe museum.

Her most expensive pair? "They're Dolce & Gabbana open-toed crocodile pumps, which cost me $1,200, and which don't fit," she says.

"I wear a size 8 1/2 , and they're 10s. I stuff (the shoes) to keep from walking out of them."

Her favorite pair? "Too tough to pick. Maybe my pink velvet sling backs with crystals. Then again, I get butterflies when I wear my Puccis."

But can it go too far?

How do you know when your shoes are walking all over your life? What does it mean when you feel guilty and never take the shoes out of the box?

OK, so clinical psychologist Nicole Tobias says she's never met a person with a shoe addiction. Tobias is director of counseling and disability services at the Art Institute of California in San Francisco where fashion design is a daily focus.

"Obsessive ness (about shoes) doesn't have to be a bad thing," she says. "If I were a person who shops for shoes often, it wouldn't necessarily mean I had a problem."

Tobias says to determine if your own affection for all things shoe is crossing the line, look at your whole life picture:

Is buying lots of shoes causing a problem financially?

Is there something missing in your life, and shoes are the panacea?

Is your life full and rich in other areas? Or are shoes a dominating force?

Fifty-four percent of single women (mostly in their 30s) surveyed by soundinvesting.org say they were likely to accumulate 30 pairs of shoes before accumulating $30,000 in retirement savings.

Still, that may not mean women have a peculiar issue, Tobias points out.

"The thing is though, men collect things, too," Tobias says. "It's probably something more like stamps or coins rather than shoes, but we don't pathologize those hobbies."

Shoes in pop culture

Women's adoration of shoes permeated the recent movie "In Her Shoes," based on Jennifer Weiner's novel. The plot revolves around two sisters who only have their love for stilettos (and their complicated love for each other) in common.

In the film, Toni Collette's character tells her slimmer, sexier sister (played by Cameron Diaz) that she buys shoes when she feels blue, because unlike the rest of her, her shoe size never changes. Plus, it's rather impossible to feel unattractive in a pair of strappy Manolo Blahniks.

But that shoe labels have become nouns, i.e., "Manolos" and "Jimmy Choos," must be credited to shoe-obsessed TV characters such as Carrie Bradshaw of "Sex and the City."

Bill Boettge, president of the National Shoe Retailers Association in Columbia, Md., says TV shows in particular have had a tremendous influence on women's shoe-buying habits.

"Wearing sexy shoes made a comeback after a decade (1990s) of casual styles," he says, "because women had had enough of comfort."

Boettge points to MTV as another major influence in shoe trends, with a strong impact on younger (teens and 20-something) shoppers.

"With shoes, when a woman sees what she wants, she'll do whatever she has to," he says.

The NPD Group, which tracks consumer spending, confirms women are spending more on fashionable footwear rather than sensible shoes. For example, sales of stiletto and kitten-heel shoes were up 18 percent and 9 percent, respectively, last year over plain old block-heeled shoes.

Not only did "Sex and the City" expand the shoe horizon for the average woman, it bolstered the careers of some of the world's best shoe designers. Their sales took off because somehow owning the shoes was more important than the fit, the comfort or the price tag.

"'I don't give a damn about the cost' is basically what women were saying," says Brandin Baron, also on the faculty at the Art Institute of California. "On that show, shoes were equated with a better way of life, with optimism, with success."

Carrie Bradshaw and her TV shoe collection transcend traditional fashion roles. "But I don't know how realistic that fashion lifestyle is," Baron adds.

"From the Daily Review," compliments of Stacie Ku

Sole mates
Shoes are a girl's real best friend

THE WOMAN'S SHOE: An external covering for the foot? Or a peek into the inner workings of her soul? Sole mates.

One thing is certain. American women spent $17 billion on fashion footwear between October 2004 and October 2005, according to retail and consumer-information firm NPD Group.

Now, the NPD Group didn't emphasize that shocking stat with capital letters. But if it had, it would have looked like this: 17 BILLION DOLLARS.

That's the amount of Bulgaria's foreign debt. It's the amount China will spend on six new hydroelectric power plants on the Yangtze River. It's the price New York City is expected to pay if it ever resurrects the Second Avenue subway, a pipe dream that's been in the offing since 1920.

So. The woman's shoe. External foot covering? Or unhealthy obsession?

"Definitely there's a level of obsession there, for sure," says Chris Silverman, 35, who owns 22 Shoes in Oakland's Rockridge neighborhood along with his wife, Alexandra. "It's just one of those things. Some people stress about finding the perfect-fitting jean. They want their butt to look a certain way. It's the same way, but worse, with shoes. Women will search the ends of the earth for a pointy toe and a kitten heel with a little pink in it. It's an endless quest for the perfect shoe."

Shoes, shoes, everywhere

There's no denying the shoe's place in popular culture. They inspire film, most recently in the Cameron Diaz and Toni Collette vehicle, "In Her Shoes."

They inspire television, most memorably when Sarah Jessica Parker cooed "Hello, lover" to a pair of Christian Louboutin sandals in a window during an episode of "Sex and the City."

They inspire movie stars, most greenly when Natalie Portman pointed out at the Golden Globes that her shoes were vegan.

And they inspire world events, most politically in 1987 when Imelda Marcos' collection of

1,220 pairs came to symbolize the extravagance of her husband Ferdinand's rule and the couple's life of luxury amid the overwhelming poverty of the Philippines.

"I did see shoes among many other things in Malacanang Palace just after they fled," says Seth Mydans, the New York Times writer who covered the fall of Ferdinand Marcos, via e-mail. "I don't know if I saw all of them. They were extravagant like everything else there. The word that's used to describe her flamboyance is 'Imeldific.'"

The most recent evidence pointing to the power of the woman's shoe comes from the book-turned-film "The Devil Wears Prada," which is currently in production and stars Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep. The movie poster features a solitary red stiletto with the three tines of a pitchfork as the heel.

No doubt about it, shoes sell.

"The thing about shoes that's so captivating is that they're your one connection to the ground. They're a blend of form and function. They're a sculptural piece of art, and yet, you wear them," says Meghan Cleary, author of the newly published "The Perfect Fit: What Your Shoes Say About You" (Chronicle Books; $12.95). "Shoes can define your mood, your look, how people perceive you."

Overwhelmingly, the shoe obsession is a women's thing. Though Cleary thinks "men are sort of secretly obsessed with shoes," it's undeniable that shoes — whether they be slides, mules, kitten heels, pumps, or even sneakers — stir a passion in women.

"Men can be into shoes, but they're more linear in their obsession," says Cleary. "They might have two or three they obsess over while women might have your stiletto, your sandal, your beach sandal. It goes by mood. The passion level can be the same, but it's manifested differently."

The psychology behind women and their shoes is no joke. Honest-to-goodness cerebral thinkers have written books on the subject, like Susan B. Kaiser, who penned "The Social Psychology of Clothing." "Shoes," writes Kaiser, "embody the intersections among gender, class, sexuality, ethnicity, race, age, and the multiple joys, sorrows, ambivalences and anxieties of everyday life."

If that's too cerebral, then subscribe to the Cleary theory: "If you're in a really bad mood and need to change it around, then you might pick your red stilettos instead of your come-kick-me clogs. Feet themselves encompass so many nerve endings that resonate throughout the body, that how you feel in them can really determine how you feel."

Stats don't lie

Research backs Cleary's

A survey commissioned by Mervyn's department store on women's shoe shopping habits revealed that 58 percent feel that wearing a particular pair of shoes actually boosts their self-esteem.

And just as Ponce de Leon searched endlessly for the Fountain of Youth, women search endlessly for the Shoe of Esteem. At least, that's one explanation for why 40 percent of women buy three to five new pairs of shoes a year and more than one in four buy at least six pairs.

"How many pairs did I buy in the last year? Let's see," says Chanda Brewer of Oakland, a shoe dilettante. "One... two... three... four... um, 12?"

Brewer, 33, like many women, is attracted to shoes for three reasons: First, the foot doesn't have a bad day. If a woman's foot is a size 81/2 on one day, she'll still be an 81/2 on a day where maybe her favorite jeans feel a size too small. Second, the shoe shopping mirror doesn't show the entire body. And third, shoe shopping is just plain easy.

"It's a quicker purchase," says Brewer, who has 41 pairs that she wears regularly. "Unlike going to Nordstrom or something, I don't even have to talk to a sales person. They either fit or they don't. Whereas with clothes shopping, and the whole process of gathering them and putting them on, lots of times the clothes will look good on the rack, but not on.

Hey, babe, what's your shoe?

While the psychology behind women's love of shoes has been discussed over the years, what's been probed less thoroughly is what those shoes actually say about women. Though Cleary's book is as guilty a pleasure as a knee-high boot with a low heel, there's actually quite a keen insight to the different profiles of shoe wearers the author describes.

Calling the shoe's premise "shoestrology," Cleary breaks down women's personalities into three basic categories: Down-To-Earth, On-the-Go and Towering Heights.

Beneath those umbrellas are 30 specific shoe types, ranging from flip-flop girl to pointy toe skimmer girl to clunky chunky-heel loafer girl to, of course, stiletto girl. Each chapter has an overview of the girl — flip-flop girl is energetic, tanned and loyal, among other things, while designer bowling shoe girl is "scrappy and resourceful and roots for the underdog." Filling out the chapters are career and wardrobe advice and how each different shoe personality can invoke her "inner stiletto."

You really can find out more about yourself through your shoes," says Cleary, who's a half-ballet flat girl and half-stiletto girl. "Everyone is shocked at how accurate I am."

While shoes can say a lot about a person, sometimes what they say isn't necessarily a good thing. And sometimes, shoes get women in trouble.

Brewer, the Oakland woman with 41 pairs of shoes, says her shoe buying habits have caused arguments in the household.

"My husband does the finances and he looks online at our account — sometimes he knows I spent money before I even get home. It's a little scary," says Brewer. "He thinks I have a ridiculous amount of shoes. I'm trying to tell him that if you were to going to poll all different economic backgrounds, I'd be on the low end. He seems to think I'm on the high end. He just thinks it's outrageous."

The woman with the lock on outrageous, though, is Mrs. Marcos. Of the 1,220 pairs of shoes that were confiscated from Malacanang Palace, 220 are on display in a shoe museum inaugurated in 2001 by the sole diva herself.

Even Marcos says those shoes say a lot about her — or don't say, as the case may be.

"The shoes are my best defense," Marcos explained in an interview after her shoe display opened, "because when they went to my closet to look for skeletons, they found no skeletons. They found shoes."

You can e-mail Candace Murphy at cmurphy@angnewspapers.com or call (925) 416-4814.

   

 

 

Stilt Walking

Cathy Horyn, NY Times - April 13, 2006

 

This was going to be great, I told myself. I was going to march into Michael's on West 55th Street, wearing the highest heels to come out of Paris, Lanvin's peep-toe stilettos with five-and-a-half-inch cone heels and a two-inch platform, and they were all going to look up from their Cobb salads with demiportions of Roquefort and well, it was going to be great.
 
Even for someone who is used to wearing stilettos and monster platforms, the shoes for spring present a special challenge. You just can't escape the fact that they are taller, more outrageous, involving a great deal more design and expense but also, it must be said, a great many more opportunities to humiliate yourself. Who pictures herself on a gurney? And how do you explain it?
"It's not like you broke your leg skiing in St. Moritz," Candy Pratts Price, the executive fashion director of Style.com, said the other night. "That's a good story. But 'I fell off my platforms'?" Ms. Price smirked.

The desire to be taller, amazonian, seems to fit with a society that likes things pumped up lips and S.U.V.'s, for example but that is only a conjecture. A lot of women, in truth, don't need a McLuhan-like explanation of why they want the new shoes.

Lisa Anastasia Reisman, who is blond and tan and from Naples, Fla., was in Barneys on Saturday, shopping with girlfriends. She had on a pair of jeans and an aqua sweater with black peace symbols on it. She strapped on a pair of five-inch Dolce & Gabbana platforms with little flowers embroidered on the sides and stood up.

"Now I'm tall," Ms. Reisman, who is 5-foot-3, said as she set off in the direction of the Lanvin display.

Then there is Esther Chetrit, a mother of five, ages 6 to 17, of Manhattan. Last Thursday Ms. Chetrit was at Bergdorf Goodman. She had already been to Saks Fifth Avenue, where she bought a pair of Yves Saint Laurent heels "the bondage ones," she said and now she was on the plumped cushions at Bergdorf, in her jeans and bare feet, looking down at a pair of python and cork platforms from Oscar de la Renta and another style, from Azzedine Ala a, with black patent leather straps and a curving raffia-covered heel.

"I'm only looking for platforms now," Ms. Chetrit said. "I feel much more balanced in them." She studied a pair of clubhouse green Gucci shoes with a stiletto heel and a one-inch platform. Besides, she added, "I need to be taller than my kids when I yell at them." She shrugged. "I have big kids."

And how tall is she? Ms. Chetrit gave one of those great deadpan New York looks. "I don't know anymore," she said.

Store executives and sales clerks, as well as outfits like the NPD Group, which tracks clothing and accessory sales, say that more women are buying higher heels this spring. Perilous or not, some of the highest shoes quickly sold out, the salesmen at Barneys and Bergdorf say. And before Ms. Chetrit left she put her name on a reorder list for the Ala as. (They sell for $795.)

Novelty styles, like Balenciaga's towering silver gladiator stilettos, which require the control of a ballerina, are among the hardest to find. And the shoes will get even bigger for fall. Balenciaga's suede platforms top seven inches.

Three weeks ago Kimberly Oser, a public relations executive at Barneys, received a call from a saleswoman at the store, alerting her to a new shipment of Christian Louboutin platforms called Miss Marple. "When I got there, five women were buzzing around the same pair," said Ms. Oser, who bought the shoes, for $710. Later she saw the same style on eBay for $1,500.

Mr. Louboutin said the style, among his tallest, sold out in Paris. "And you don't typically see French women in shoes like that," he said, speculating that such shoes have touched off some sort of tribal feeling among women. "They don't want to be the smallest member of their group," he said.

When I was at Barneys, with my peep-toe Lanvins (which the store expects to have next week, ladies), I took one off and placed it on a table. People came by and admired it as if it were a piece of Zulu sculpture. One guy started to grab it to show the woman he was with.

Hey!

Anyway, as I was saying, I had this idea to wear the Lanvins to lunch at Michael's. The place would be jammed. As I would find out in a few minutes, Joan Rivers was there. So were Anna Wintour, Ralph Lauren and Tina Brown.

At Avenue of the Americas and 55th Street I got out of a taxi. Taking the R train there was out of the question: not only are the heels high and slanted, but they also taper to a point the size of a nailhead. I had thought to take along a pair of ballet flats, which many bright women in New York on their way to a date or a party have no trouble rationalizing. It's like having a limousine without the expense and bother.

I mounted the curb. Now six feet tall, I suddenly felt less invincible than wretchedly vulnerable, to gross stares and gusts of wind. Michael's, barely half a block away, seemed a journey of several miles.

I clumped toward the big "Love" sculpture. I thought: "This won't do. Lunch will be over by the time I get there." Looking around oh, what was the point! I ducked behind a pillar and put on my ballet flats. Then I hurried on to Michael's, bolting past Ms. Wintour and the noontime crowd.

In other circumstances, like walking on the wall-to-wall at the office or at a party where I mostly stood, the Lanvins were actually comfortable, and I enjoyed my new height and the giddy looks of fright on the men in the office.

In reality you don't wear a pair of shoes like that if you carry a book bag and share trains with commuters. You invite looks of pity. Shoes like that serve a different purpose: seduction, fun, making men bark.

A friend of mine compared their glamorous constraint to wearing a tight Hedi Slimane suit to a party. "All you can do is lean at the bar," she said. "And make sure your drink comes with a straw."

 

Compliments of Lilly Williams

The Joy of Shoes @ National Geographic Magazine

Cathy Newman,  National Geographic, September 2006, "The Joy of Shoes." 

High Heel
Manolo Blahnik, silk brocade with silver chinchilla and velvet ribbon, 2005

 

High Heel
Photograph by Mitchell Feinberg

By Cathy Newman

"It will never sell in London," Manolo Blahnik sighs, cradling the silk-and-fur mule. "You know. The British. Animal rights. No foxhunting. No shooting birds. It is crazy." He huffs. Looks hurt. "They won't buy this shoe, but—they'll eat rabbits and poor little animals like that." There is a giggle like the splash of water in a fountain.

Politically correct or not, there is an irresistible urge to pet this shoe; put it on a leash; take it to bed. It is a Manolo Blahnik high heel, and for more than 30 years, Blahnik has designed shoes that are the accessory to a fairy tale: Shoes made of rhinestones, feathers, sequins, buttons, bows, beads, grommets, rings, chains, ribbons, silk brocade, bits of coral, lace, fur (from farm-raised animals, he adds), alligator, ostrich—everything, perhaps, but woven unicorn forelock.

Blahnik is a rara avis himself—an exotic hummingbird. He speaks in exclamation points. He will not sit still. He jumps up from the chair in his office with walls of dove-wing gray on King's Road—a bird flushed from cover. He exclaims, enthuses—he is all flourishes, rococo gestures, exquisite manners; impossibly elegant, spotlessly groomed with silver hair combed straight back. There is the glen-plaid double-breasted suit, a purple-yellow-and-white knit tie, and—peeking out from the sleeve of a blue cotton shirt—a red crocodile band attached to a gold Swiss watch. The shoes are size 42 1⁄2 buckskin oxfords made for him at his factory in Milan. "I dress like a banker," he says when asked if the suit is custom-made. (It is.)

The story has been told before, "but"—he shrugs—"it is the only story I have." After studying art and literature in Geneva, Blahnik fell in with the fashion crowd in New York and met Diana Vreeland, the legendary editor of Vogue. Vreeland looked at his sketches. Do accessories—pretty little things, she said airily. And so he has. A "Manolo" is the Sex and the City shoe (in one episode Carrie realized she could have made a down payment on a New York apartment for what she spent on shoes), a generic term for a high heel, and the inspiration for Madonna's remark that his shoes are as good as sex, and "last longer."

Ladies, listen. When Manolo dies, there will be no more Manolos. There is no heir or protégé. No big luxury goods conglomerate like LVMH waiting in the wings. No. No. No. When Blahnik has gone to that great shoe box in the sky, Manolos are finished. Done. Not for Manolo Blahnik a label without the real person behind it. Not like Christian Dior (died in 1957), Coco Chanel (1971), or Roger Vivier (1998), labels that survive under the aegis of others. Consider Salvatore Ferragamo (died in 1960) whose dynasty rests in the hands of his children and grandchildren. Blahnik darts off to fetch a photograph of the Italian who immigrated to California in 1914 and became shoemaker to the stars. The photograph shows Ferragamo, his big, broad face and broader smile, surrounded by the lasts of the actresses—Greta Garbo, Rita Hayworth, Sophia Loren—for whom he made shoes. "Look at that face," he says. "He is a peasant! Brilliant. But a peasant!"

Ferragamo insisted style was not enough; shoes must be comfortable. And Blahnik? What about complaints that his shoes are torture? "I haven't heard that," he responds. "Women tell me they love my shoes. Some never take them off."

But isn't a shoe really a corset for the foot?

"Yes. But a corset you adore."

The mood shifts. Blahnik turns somber. The day before, an earthquake in Pakistan has killed 73,000, leaving uncounted injured, obliterating entire villages. The headlines weep tragedy. "I am embarrassed," he says. "People are dying and I do these frivolous things." The hand slaps his forehead as if in penance, then he opens a cupboard. There are six rows of shoes. They gleam like treasure. He lifts one out. "This one is inspired by Catherine the Great," he explains, placing the shoe on the table for contemplation. It is a glorious fantasy of silk brocade, velvet ribbons, chinchilla: lush, powerful, yet fragile.

Still, it is pointed out, it is only a shoe.

Blahnik nods. "Yes, only a shoe, but if I provide escape for the woman who wears it, if for only a few minutes, it brings a bit of happiness to someone, well, then, perhaps, it is something more than a shoe."

 

Platform Shoe
Vivienne Westwood, mock crocodile, 12-inch-high (30 centimeters) blue "staggerer" with satin ribbon, 1993
 

Platform Shoe
Photograph by Mitchell Feinberg
By Cathy Newman

Gillion Carrara, a professor in the fashion department of the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, is demonstrating the anatomical effect of the high heel. "Look what happens when I put on a high heel," she says, pulling on a Vivienne Westwood shoe. Westwood, the British designer responsible for the punk look, is famous for having brought supermodel Naomi Campbell to her knees when she sent Campbell down the runway in a pair of platform shoes so high that the supermodel stumbled and fell.

Carrara places the shoe on the floor, steps in and up. "The breasts go out; the derriere juts back; the leg elongates," she says, as her anatomy puts her words into action. "Men find that very attractive."

"The foot is an erotic organ and the shoe is its sexual covering," wrote William A. Rossi, a podiatrist, in The Sex Life of the Foot and Shoe. "The shoe is the erotic foot's pimp and procurer."

Surely, it's all those digits. Toe cleavage. Heaving arches.

"Wrong," counters Harold Koda, curator of the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute. "The shoe isn't the pimp for the foot. It's the other way around. The foot is the pimp for the shoe. It's the shoe that is the erotic object." Cinderella's glass slipper, not her foot, ignited the Prince's ardor.

Feminist alert! The theme of helplessness runs rampant in the history of shoes—from Chinese foot-binding to the 21st-century stiletto. "I like high heels," British photographer David Bailey reportedly said. "It means girls can't run away from me."

The needle-sharp heel called the stiletto, from the Italian word for "dagger," appeared in the postwar years of the early 1950s. After the war and years of Rosie the Riveter masculine dress, fashion turned feminine; the focus turned to babymaking. Technology contributed a steel core allowing for a thin heel that lifted the shoe up like a skyscraper (previous heels, made of wood, could break). Voilà! The beautiful, dangerous stiletto stepped out.

In truth, we've been standing tall in shoes for centuries. Greek actors put on elevated platforms to raise them above mere mortal status. In 1595, Queen Elizabeth I authorized payment to her shoemaker for a "pair of Spanish leather shoes with high heels and arches." In 15th- and 16th-century Spain and Italy, women wore exquisitely decorated shoes known as chopines, which could stand four inches (ten centimeters) or more off the ground. (An example in Venice's Correr Museum is nearly 20 inches [50 centimeters] high.)

Beautiful? Yes.

Practical? Hardly.

To make the journey from point A to point B, the Venetian lady in chopines often had to be supported by servants. Each step hovered on the edge of disaster.

In one sense, chopines and high heels represent the grand folly of shoe evolution. "It's as if you invented a practical item—say, toilet paper—then embedded it with bits of glass just to make it beautiful," says one curator.

Or, as June Swann, the shoe historian, says, "It's like the circus. You can learn to walk on anything if you put your mind to it."

 

Improve Sex Life By Wearing High Heels

 

Heel Appeal!

Improve Sex by Wearing High Heels
From the Editors at Netscape
Improve Sex by Wearing High Heels

Call it heel appeal. Women who wear high heels may give their sex life a boost, and it has nothing to do with the effect these sexy shoes have on men and their libido.

Italian urologist Dr. Maria Cerruto of the University of Verona has concluded that walking in higher heels--and they don't have to be stilettos--gives a workout to the pelvic floor muscles, the pleasure muscles that are linked to orgasm.

This may be the first scientific study to show high heels are good for a woman's health. Previous research has shown such shoes can give women everything from stress fractures to schizophrenia, not to mention corns and sore feet.

Editor's Picks: Steve Madden Pumps -- Nine West Slingbacks

The BBC News and London's Daily Mail report that Cerruto's study of 66 women under age 50 found that those who held their foot at a 15-degree angle to the ground, which is the same effect as a two-inch heel, had posture that was just as good as those who wore flat shoes. But these women also showed less electrical activity in their pelvic muscles, which indicates those muscles were at an optimum position. Cerruto maintains this could improve the strength and ability of the pelvic muscles to contract. These muscles assist sexual performance and satisfaction, as well as provide vital support to the pelvic organs, which include the bladder, bowels and uterus.

Editor's Picks: Guess Footwear -- Bandolino Shoes

Pregnancy and childbirth, as well as aging, can weaken the pelvic muscles. Exercises help, but Cerruto theorizes that wearing two-inch high heels may be enough to eliminate the need for those exercises. "Women often have difficulty in carrying out the right exercises for the pelvic zone and wearing heels could be the solution," she told the BBC. "Like many women, I like high-heeled shoes. It's good to know they have potential health benefits."

But moderation counts! Shoe designer Manolo Blahnik told The Daily Mail, "I think there's a limit, though. Anything over four-and-a-half inches is just too much. You can't walk properly; it's no longer elegant."

The study was published as a letter in the journal European Urology.

--From the Editors at Netscape

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