I have some really tall heels. Some of them so tall that I don't wear them very often because my feet hurt in like 10 minutes, or I have a high chance of falling over.
The dinosaur heels are changing all that.
Named so (by me) because of the spikes running down the back of the heel making them look like a prehistoric animal, these things are five or six inch heels.
They were part of my shameless Bakers shoe splurge a couple of weeks ago. I'm a sucker for red and black anything, convinced myself I really needed a pair of red heels (even though these are not work appropriate) and bought the monstrous heels from Wild Pair simply because I wanted to.
Logic has no place in my shoe collection.
Saturday I finally got to wear them out of the house. Paired with cigarette pants (or cropped pants for those who hate cigarettes), a red button-down and pinstripe Gaultier vest, I managed to stab myself with the heel of the shoe while I was putting it on. That really wasn't boding well for the rest of the night. I had visions of myself falling down on the sidewalk and managing to stab myself or someone else with the heel, the spikes in the back, or just break the ankle straps. And since the shoes made me almost six feet tall, it was going to be a long way down.
Instead it turns out these are possibly some of the most comfortable heels I have. Probably because of the giant platform and small pitch, I was on my feet for hours before they started to hurt. And even then, it was the dull pain of too much running around, and not the searing agony of being in heels too long.
In fact, the whole night was incident free and fabulous (aside from when I stabbed myself putting them on). But just as all good things must end, at the end of the night, As I exited a car and made my way through the street to my house, I tripped on a rock, or branch, or just had too many drinks, and almost went down. I managed to regain my balance with the assistance of a parked car, but it was clear by then that my shoes and I had to retire for the night.
The dinosaur heels are changing all that.
Named so (by me) because of the spikes running down the back of the heel making them look like a prehistoric animal, these things are five or six inch heels.
They were part of my shameless Bakers shoe splurge a couple of weeks ago. I'm a sucker for red and black anything, convinced myself I really needed a pair of red heels (even though these are not work appropriate) and bought the monstrous heels from Wild Pair simply because I wanted to.
Logic has no place in my shoe collection.
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| Urban dinosaurs |
Instead it turns out these are possibly some of the most comfortable heels I have. Probably because of the giant platform and small pitch, I was on my feet for hours before they started to hurt. And even then, it was the dull pain of too much running around, and not the searing agony of being in heels too long.
In fact, the whole night was incident free and fabulous (aside from when I stabbed myself putting them on). But just as all good things must end, at the end of the night, As I exited a car and made my way through the street to my house, I tripped on a rock, or branch, or just had too many drinks, and almost went down. I managed to regain my balance with the assistance of a parked car, but it was clear by then that my shoes and I had to retire for the night.
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