Author Archives: susanjustwrites

HAPPY JULY!  Following a tradition I began several years ago, I’m once again encouraging women to declare their independence this July 4^th and abandon wearing high-heeled shoes. I’ve revised this post for 2024. My newly revised post follows:

I’ve long maintained that high heels are killers.  I never used that term
literally, of course.  I merely viewed high-heeled shoes as distinctly
uncomfortable and an outrageous concession to the dictates of fashion that can
lead to both pain and permanent damage to a woman’s body. Several years ago, however, high heels proved to be actual killers.  The Associated Press reported that two women, ages 18 and 23, were killed in
Riverside, California, as they struggled in high heels to get away from a train.  With their car stuck on the tracks, the women attempted to flee as the train approached.  A police spokesman later said, “It appears they
were in high heels and [had] a hard time getting away quickly.” 

During the past few years, largely dominated by the global pandemic, many women and
men adopted different ways to clothe themselves.  Sweatpants and other comfortable clothing became popular.  Many women also abandoned wearing high heels.  Staying close to home, wearing comfortable clothes, they saw
no need to push their feet into high heels.  Venues requiring professional clothes or footwear almost disappeared, and few women sought out venues requiring any sort of fancy clothes or footwear.  But when the pandemic began to loosen its grip, some women were tempted to return to their previous choice of footwear.  The prospect of a renaissance in high-heeled shoe-wearing was noted in publications like The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal.  According to the Times, some were seeking “the joy of dressing up…itching…to step up their style game in towering heels.”

Okay. I get it.  “Dressing up” may be your thing after a few years of relying on
sweatpants.  But “towering heels”?  They may look beautiful

BUT don’t do it!  Please take my advice and don’t return to wearing the kind
of shoes that will hobble you once again. Like the unfortunate young women in Riverside, I was sucked into wearing high heels when I was a teenager.  It was de rigueur for girls at my high school to seek out the trendy shoe stores on State Street in downtown Chicago and purchase whichever high-heeled offerings our wallets could
afford.  On my first visit, I was entranced by the three-inch-heeled numbers that pushed my toes into a too-narrow space and revealed them in what I thought was a highly provocative position.  Never mind that my feet were
encased in a vise-like grip.  Never mind that I walked unsteadily on the stilts beneath my soles.  And never mind that my whole body was pitched forward in an ungainly manner as I propelled myself around the store. 

But during one wearing of those heels, the pain became so great that I removed them
and walked in stocking feet the rest of my way home.  After that painful lesson, I abandoned
three-inch high-heeled shoes and resorted to wearing lower ones.  
Sure, I couldn’t flaunt my shapely legs quite as effectively, but I
nevertheless managed to secure ample male attention.  Instead of conforming
to the modern-day equivalent of Chinese foot-binding, I successfully and
happily fended off the back pain, foot pain, bunions, and corns that my
fashion-victim sisters often suffer in spades.

Until the pandemic changed our lives, I observed a troubling trend toward higher and higher heels.  I was baffled by women, especially young women, who bought
into the mindset that they had to follow the dictates of fashion and the need
to look “sexy” by wearing extremely high heels.  Watching TV, I’d see too
many women wearing stilettos that forced them into the ungainly walk I briefly
sported so long ago.  Women on late-night TV shows who were otherwise
smartly attired and often very smart (in the other sense of the word) wore
ridiculously high heels that forced them to greet their hosts with that same
ungainly walk.  Some appeared to be almost on the verge of toppling
over. Sadly, this phenomenon has reappeared. 

Otherwise enlightened women are once again appearing on TV wearing absurdly high heels.  Even one of my
favorite TV journalists, Stephanie Ruhle, has appeared on her “11^th Hour” program on MSNBC in stilettos. 
C’mon, Steph!  Don’t chip away at my respect for you.  Dump those stilettos!

What about the women, like me, who adopted lower-heeled shoes instead of following
fashion?  I think we’re much smarter and much less likely to fall on our
faces.  One very smart woman who’s still a fashion icon agreed with us
long ago: the late Hollywood film star Audrey Hepburn. Audrey dressed smartly,
in both senses of the word. I recently watched her 1963 smash film Charade for the
tenth or twelfth time. I once again noted how elegant she appeared in her
Givenchy wardrobe and her–yes–low heels. Audrey was well known for wearing
comfortable low heels in her private life as well as in her films.  In Charade, paired with
Cary Grant, another ultra-classy human being, she’s seen running up and down
countless stairs in Paris Metro stations, chased by Cary Grant not only on
those stairs but also through the streets of Paris. She couldn’t have possibly
done all that frantic running in high heels!

Foot-care professionals have soundly supported my view.   According to the
American Podiatric Medical Association, a heel that’s more than 2 or 3 inches
makes comfort just about impossible.  Why?  Because a 3-inch heel
creates seven times more stress than a 1-inch heel. A noted podiatrist and foot and ankle surgeon has explained that after 1.5 inches, the pressure increases on the ball of the foot and can lead to
“ball-of-the-foot numbness.” (Yikes!)  He advised against wearing
3-inch heels and pointed out that celebrities wear them for only a short time,
not all day.  To ensure a truly comfortable shoe, he added, no one should
go above a 1.5-inch heel. 

Before the pandemic, some encouraging changes were afoot.  Nordstrom, one of
America’s major shoe-sellers, began to promote lower-heeled styles. Although
stilettos hadn’t disappeared from the scene, they weren’t the only
choices.  I was encouraged because Nordstrom is a bellwether in the
fashion world, and its choices can influence shoe-seekers.  Then the
pandemic arrived and changed shoe-purchasing.  During the first year,
sales of high heels languished, “teetering on the edge of extinction,”
according to the Times.  But because the pandemic has now dissipated to a large extent, some women may have resurrected the high heels already in their closets.  They may even be inspired to buy
new ones.  I hope they don’t.

There is heartening news from bellwether Nordstrom.  In a recent catalog, two
pages featured nothing but sneakers.  Other pages displayed nothing but
flat-heeled shoes and “modern loafers.” Stilettos were nowhere to be seen.

Let’s not forget the Gen Z generation.  Most Gen Z shoppers don’t follow the
dictates of fashion. They largely eschew high heels, choosing pricey and often
glamorous sneakers instead–even with dressy prom dresses.

My own current faves: I wear black Skechers almost everywhere (I own more than one
pair). I occasionally choose my old standby, Reeboks, for serious walking. (In
my novel Red Diana, protagonist Karen Clark laces on her Reeboks for a lengthy jaunt, just as I do.)  I
recently bought a pair of Ryka sneakers–so far so good. And in warm weather, I
wear walking sandals, like those sold by Clarks, Teva, and Ecco.

Any women who are pondering buying high-heeled shoes should hesitate.  Beyond
the issue of comfort and damage to your feet, please remember that high heels
present a far more serious problem.  As the deaths in
Riverside demonstrate, women who wear high heels may be putting their lives
at risk.  When they need to flee a dangerous situation, high heels can
handicap their ability to escape. How many needless deaths have
resulted from hobbled feet? 

The Fourth of July is fast approaching.  As we celebrate the holiday this
year, I once again urge the women of America to declare their independence from high-heeled shoes. If
you’re thinking about returning to painful footwear, think again.  You’d be wise to reconsider.I urge you to bravely gather any high heels you’ve been clinging to and throw
those shoes away.  At the very least, keep them out of sight in the back
of your closet.  And don’t even think about buying new ones.  Shod
yourself instead in shoes that allow you to walk in comfort—and if need
be, to run. Your wretched appendages, yearning to be free, will be forever grateful.

I like to stay abreast of the news.  To get current info, I’ve purchased online subscriptions to newspapers like The Washington Post.

The Post is currently in a state of upheaval, reeling from revelations about editors and others who run the paper.  But it’s still churning out plenty of news stories.  I like to peruse the list of stories every day, choosing the ones I want to read and deleting the rest.

One of the things I don’t look for in the Post is advice on how to do household chores. I’ve never been much of a fanatic about housekeeping.  Probably a predictable reaction to my mother’s
obsession with it.  I do keep things clean, and I can usually track down what I need.  My sister, on the other hand, happily followed my mother’s path.  When she listed her house for sale, the listing described her place as “impeccably maintained.”  I couldn’t help joking that my house was, by contrast, “peccably maintained.”  (I don’t think that’s a real word.)

Noting the chaos going on behind the scenes at the Post, I was recently astounded to come across advice on “how to iron better and faster.”  A long column set out “ironing tips and tricks.”

My reaction?  I don’t iron!  I haven’t ironed anything in years.  Does anyone still iron?

After moving to San Francisco 19 years ago, leaving behind all sorts of things I used in my former home, I purchased a new steam iron at Macy’s.  My apartment has a built-in ironing board, and I guess I expected to use this iron someday. But I never have.  It languishes in its box, resting on a shelf, eagerly waiting to confront some wrinkled clothes.  The funny thing is that I never wear clothes that need ironing.

I can’t help remembering how my mother was addicted to an old-fashioned heavy non-steam iron she must have acquired in the 1950s.  When I finally made a little money in my newly-launched legal career, I gave her the gift of a brand-new steam iron purchased at the old Sears department store on State Street in downtown Chicago.  Incredibly, she forced me to return it!  To my amazement, she clearly preferred her long-established habit of wielding that heavy iron and watching all manner of
clothes turn wrinkle-free under her watch. 

I confess that in my long-ago past, I did iron a few items of clothing.  I specifically recall ironing
the white cotton blouses we all wore back then. But I happily left cotton blouses behind years ago.  When I worked as a lawyer, I sometimes wore silk blouses that needed special care, but I sent
those to a cleaners rather than tackle them myself.

Today my wardrobe is filled with very little besides t-shirts and jeans and black pants that don’t need ironing.  I can’t imagine standing in front of an ironing board handling a dangerously hot appliance that does nothing more than remove wrinkles. I view that as a tremendous waste of my time.

If you choose to wear clothes that need ironing, I certainly respect your choice.  You must prefer to wear
clothes very different from mine.  Maybe you’d like to read the advice by Post columnist Helen Carefoot.  In her column, she covers topics like “how to use the ironing board correctly.”  Good luck to you in that pursuit! 

Please forgive me if I don’t join you.  I choose to avoid that particular pursuit.  I’m quite fulfilled wearing my t-shirts and non-ironed pants while I take a hike outdoors, watch the latest must-see on TV, or sit in front of my desktop computer, happily typing away.