Versace wedges on sale now at LUISAVIAROMA.COM
I am pretty confident in saying that me and wedge shoes are firm friends. Having been a major fan of the platform stiletto for many years, I developed a serious relationship with the wedge heel around six months ago. The attraction? Height and stability combined of course. Stability is the key word here, as I have the rather worrying habit of falling down stairs (the most recent being the front steps of my apartment building). I carry the clumsy gene you see, which I get from my Mum who spent my childhood tripping down the stairs of a four storey house we used to live in. One, rather scary, time when she took a tumble (wearing an enviable pair of purple heeled clogs I may add) she hit her head on a radiator. Rushing to her side, she informed me that she ‘wasn’t dead’ and burst out laughing (concussion probably). My Dad threw those ‘flipping clogs’ out after the incident, much to my dismay. So you see I have to be quite careful when it comes to stairs and my footwear as stability isn’t really part of my DNA.
Speaking of stability, one of my best friends recently had a baby which, I’m sure she won’t mind me saying, is quite an amazing thing for her to achieve. You may find this comment quite mean but honestly she can hardly keep a pot plant alive never mind another living being. Well this was before little Hamish came along (yes I agree interesting choice of name, but his father is Scottish so I suppose…). Before his arrival she was all cocktails, glitter and sky high ‘Choos’, in fact she used to snigger at our other flat wearing friend who had a baby last year. So as you can imagine it was with slight trepidation that I met her for lunch last week (back in England I may add, I was home visiting my babies who, by the way, were waiting patiently in their boxes for me). Expecting a crazy sleep deprived, nappy bag wielding psycho to appear before me, I sat with some trepidation in a cafe awaiting her arrival.
I heard her before I saw her…the mesmerising sound of high heels on laminate flooring, and then she appeared. Now, for someone who had once scoffed at the introduction of a children’s wear collection at Stella McCartney she seemed to be embracing motherhood to its fullest. She breezed in wearing classic black, pushing her bundle of joy in a Missoni Pushchair (did you know they did pushchairs? Nope, neither did I) and sporting what can only be described as THE most heavenly Diane Von Furstenberg opal printed, calf hair, wooden wedges. My jaw nearly hit the floor, here was me thinking she was going to be jealous of my new bargain Nine West espadrilles.
She sat down opposite me, her face radiant with motherhood and her sleeping (Mui Mui clad) cherub snoozing in his Missoni throne. I quickly noticed the monogrammed Louis Vuitton changing bag hanging from her arm. Ignoring the sleeping child I launched myself into a full on appreciation of the shoes (after all they didn’t threaten to cry if you made a sound).
‘Yes they really are beautiful aren’t they?’ she said admiring her feet. ‘Motherhood isn’t half as hard as I thought it would be Sophie. These shoes are stable, but elegant, perfectly practical.’ She grinned at me, ‘Baby proof,’ she said with a flourish.
As she pushed her new accessory away from our meeting I let my mind wonder to the future. I was pretty sure that a hyperactive, inquisitive and speedy two year old would out match even the most stable of DVF wedges. Luckily all I had to contend with were the stairs, and armed with my espadrilles I think I am safe to say that I’ll be the winner.