By Dani Katz
They’re soooooo obvious; whether paired with a tight Lycra mini skirt, a garter belt and stockings, or a rented French maid’s uniform, stripper heels are iconic fashion code for slut. Don’t get me wrong, slut, slutty and any other slut-borne derivation is fine by me, and definitely has its time and place, but: stripper heels? Really? Can’t we be more imaginative than that, gals?
Heels, in general, are a categorically senseless and stupid choice for footwear. Sure, they elongate the legs and add a bitchin’ curve to those constantly flexing calf muscles, all the while wreaking infinite varieties of irreversible havoc upon the back, the legs and the feet – oh, those poor, traumatized feet! In addition to brutalizing the body in countless ways, they’re a great way to limit your range of motion such that racing to hail a cab, climbing a flight of stairs, and fleeing a machete-wielding rapist are but conceptual fantasies impossible to experience without snapping your tibia in half, which is a great way to ruin a perfectly good pair of stockings – all that bone and blood and gristle and whatnot.
Of course, we know that heels are impractical, and yet, we still wear ‘em, because vanity so often trumps sanity. And comfort. And so, like reaching for the Nutella, or another tab of acid, we go against our better judgment, and strap ourselves onto those tiny, teetering surface areas that all the glossy magazines tell us we should be wearing, and endeavor to move about our days, utilizing any number of Jedi mind tricks to tell ourselves that “they’re totally comfortable,” as we limp and shuffle between carefully plotted trajectories that involve as little pedestrian travel as possible.
Practicality and pain aside, stripper heels are a cop-out. The only way super high heels look vaguely chic is when paired with a slouchy chino, cuffed as an afterthought at the ankle, and paired with an equally easy-going top (think Alexander Wang, Helmut Lang, or other similarly minimalist, deconstructed “ang” suffixed designer). Anything else reeks of effort, and shrieks fashion don’t, at the top of it’s whiny, Jersey girl lungs. Stripper heels? Never. I’m even lobbying for strippers to phase ‘em out, opting instead for combat boots, ballet shoes, or bedazzled dance tape.
Besides, according to those shiny magazines that feed off of our collective insecurities by telling us how fat and old and ugly we are, the platform flat is THE shoe of the season – and that’s about as un-stripper heel as you can get (combat boots and bedazzled dance tape, notwithstanding).