You know what makes me confident? Being the tallest woman in the room. I'll wear my heels until *I* decide they they don't work for me anymore.

Oh, Amy. Megan Fox and Angelina Jolie aren't really attractive. That's just the media brainwashing us again. ;)

(I have friends who believe this.)

It's a package thing. In the 1860s women wore flats to make themselves look shorter, as petiteness was considered desirable. They were wearing a huge dress which masked the way they walked anyways.

Heels are fashionable now because men can see womens' legs. So things like what kind of tights you wear and shoe heel have become more important.

One thing, though, is "sexier" isn't always the same as "beautiful". There's overlap to a certain point, but at some point it splits off. Being TOO sexy can make a woman less beautiful, and less likely to be the girl he brings home to mother.

So what happens if I type "pirates"? I'm going to try.

It's the same as when you don't type anything. I'm so disappointed. I thought you would have a funny message for me!

And what do they say about cowboy boots?

I wear cowboy boots day in and day out. About the only time I wear flat shoes is when I go to the ren fest and wear my period boots. I find after a day or two of walking in the flats my calves are killing me. Should we ban cowboy boots?

> wearing heels "forces women to throw back their
> shoulders and arch their backs, making their
> breasts look bigger, their stomachs flatter, and
> their buttocks more rounded and thrust out."
> They make the leg look more toned and elongated.

Cheese—

That's silly cheese. Monterey Jack with jalapeno pepper.


She can't run.

That's all.

(Girls shouldn't try to think like boys, they're not up to it.)

I don't care what kind of shoes other people wear. I live in Iowa and stick to flatter shoes because I'm not going to try to totter across an ice and snow-covered parking lot in pointy little shoes.

And what if a pack of wild dingoes tries to chase me?

Ah, bless you Amy!

And, so long as a woman wears heels, I'll do my part by way of the chivalry thing. I'll open doors for you, carry your heavy objects, help you with your coat, help you in and out of the car, pull your chair out at the table, precede you down the escalator and follow you upward (in case you might stumble), walk to the outside of the curb, and all that. :)

Fair is fair!

Ken

I love, LOVE my Louboutins and Manolos. I love the way they fit and look, and whenever I wear them I get compliments.
My work wear consists of scrubs and clogs. How many compliments do you think I get wearing those? Even when I am saving a guy's life!
Because my job requires sloppy dressing, I actually look forward to those times when I can wear the 3 inch heels and nylons. Screw the feminazis.

"heel wearers moved with shorter, more forceful strides than the control group,"

Well, at least that answers a question I had ages ago, the first time I watched Bette Midler on stage. I had never seen anyone strut so fast!

"And what if a pack of wild dingoes tries to chase me?"

As a wild dingo I've noticed that certain times of the week - Friday and Saturday nights in particular - women will wear these shoes as if to purposely slow themselves down and make themselves easier to catch and eat.

No complaints.

New Yorkers have been carrying heels in their bags while wearing flats for long walks/the train for a long time. In a city that's so fast paced and where people are walking a lot, that's the best option. I get the feeling things are different in LA.

In Chicago I also do the same thing as in NYC because I need to be able to run from all the criminals here AND look hot in our swanky expensive restaurants...

if you dress like you care, I'll act like I do.

The question is, who you dressin' for? I dun care if you never wear heals except on special occasions. But if you are trying to catch someone's eye, you probably want to not wear ripped up flip flops and stained pajama bottoms.

In between dressed to the nines and bag-lady is a wonderous profusion of things.

On the mechanics of it, variety is probably the answer...

On the sensible footwear bringing a sensible mate? Perhaps. But the question is... is boring old Mr. Normal going to get YOUR skirts in a bunch?

Crid, you're saying that's why they're sexy to men? Because she appears hobbled? Interesting!

Monterey Jack with jalapeno pepper.

My favourite!!

I wear shoes with all kindsa heels - low, flat, high, in-between. Depends on the occasion. If it's a formal, fancy-dancy kinda thing, I'll wear heels. (When my feet get too tired, I kick 'em off!) But for the most part, I wear low heels or flats. Even with my black cocktail dress - I have this really cute pair of black leather flats with a bow that look great with it!

> And what if a pack of wild dingoes tries
> to chase me?

Angel, those aren't the jackals you needta worry about.

> you're saying that's why they're sexy to men?

It all happens well below the cortex... Freeing the younger, higher neurology to reflect on Amy's ironic admonition to stop "lying to women about beauty".

Unfortunately, it's not possible for all women to wear heels comfortably. I have arthritis and am unable to bend several of my toe joints. This means that I literally cannot place my feet into high heeled shoes, much less walk in them. Not everyone you see in (relatively fugly) rigid-soled flats or clogs are in them because they are carrying on some sort of protest against sexy Manolos.

Jim P, I don't think anyone is BANNING heels. But yes, probably the reason you hurt in flats is your tendons have shortened due to wearing heels.

I will say this about heels... women who can walk well in them look HOT. Unfortunately, a large percentage of women who wear heels cannot walk well in them and so while their gait is still gazelle-like, it is the gait of the newborn gazelle in the first few minutes of its life. Awkward, and ungainly. If you can't walk gracefully, choose a lower heel. Tottering around awkwardly is not sexy.

"Angel, those aren't the jackals you needta worry about."

Sexbots in stilletos: those ARE the droids we're looking for.

Womantalk → "Tottering around awkwardly is not sexy."

Mantalk → "those ARE the droids we're looking for."

Amy says, "So, so tired of politically correct lies -- and lies women tell themselves and others so they can feel better about their own choices."

Hear, hear! (If only the p.c. lies which make women feel better weren't so often damaging to men. Oh, well, so long as the women feel better ... )

Thanks again for being honest and fair about female privilege, Amy.

See, women like to dress this stuff up in complicated narratives of projected consequences and delicately-balanced, deeply personal considerations... As if a man sees a woman and does a bunch of rapid-fire calculations, comparing the musculature of her calves with the declination of her lower spine moving in three-dimensional space, discounting a lesser bosom for some cardiovascular virtue, calibrating prevenient observations against an ideal reproductive outcome in future decades.

But men are all, like, tail.

So if the herd of gazelle just happens to be exiting the clearing as he takes notice, a man will content himself with taking down the knock-kneed straggler.

And on Monday:

Q.: "Dude, how was your weekend?"

A.: "Good! Yers?"

Crid, you don't think the tone, arch, and length they lend to the figure are factors at all?

"Arch"? Really?

I think concentration on those wordy details is femininely oblivious and regrettable, or academically careerist and mundane, or maybe both.

Womantalk → "Oh, she was wearing the ones with the strappy part around the mid-heel, with the red trim on the upper edge, and exploding rainbow orchid pattern above the toe, and she somehow got them for like a hundred dollars! I'm soooo envious...."

Mantalk → "Nice ass."

Y'know that pff-y sound that Europeans make when someone says something that's not worth a whole bunch of refutation?

Yeah?

GOOD.

"As if a man sees a woman and does a bunch of rapid-fire calculations" Crid

yup, he does those, but they are not actually calculations, but hard wire... or maybe compiled. So yes, Tone Arch Length, all taken into account, and IN 3D!!!! Insufficient Poison, but not on a calculator, but through some kinda evolution, doncha know.

Which is why we don't always rhapsodize about the shape of a woman's back [I do] as it connects to her glutes, the brain is taking it all in...

Yeah, I get that a man is not acutely aware of the measurements and ratios that please his eye, he just knows that he likes what he sees. And yes, I get that styling details on the shoe itself are irrelevant to men.

But I have read that the way heels make a woman's back arch, ass protrude, and breasts thrust upward is what makes them "work" on men. That's not a quote from Vogue. That's evo psych stuff. (It's also pretty much what Amy wrote.)

Crid contradicted Amy. He said it's more that the guy is subconsciously aware that she is prey that can't run--which is a different thing. So I was asking him if he dismisses the way they visually enhance her entire figure as part of the equation. He seemed to write that off as girlspeak.

> they are not actually calculations, but hard
> wire... or maybe compiled.

'Zackly. (Swissy is the only one in the room who I trust with the metaphor. He groks.)

THIS IS MICROCODE. Are you listening, little sister? Are you channeling, Honey? THIS IS SILICON. It is programming, but it's not software in the most popular sense. You will not be permitted to re-write it on the fly for your own flattery and comfort.

The most despicable intersection of feminism and naïveté, and perhaps the most POPULAR intersection, leaves silly little girls believing that men would be nicer if only they were told to be.

[W]earing heels "forces women to throw back their shoulders["]...

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

> He seemed to write that off as girlspeak.

You can take that stuff very seriously if you want to.

There was this ship, and it had these chairs....

Goddammit, Crid.

How dare you!!! How dare you!!!

Is it the shoes?????

No!!!!!

From previous comments:
"Mantalk → "Nice ass."

Precisely. The gift of heels."

Me:
Nope - that's the gift of squats and lunges. Heels don't improve the butt anywhere near to the same effect. Now, the nice swinging gait which shows off the hard work - THAT is the gift of heels. :)

"Unfortunately, a large percentage of women who wear heels cannot walk well in them"

I would like to state for all the interested, I own a large high heel collection. I mean large, large. I like tall heels, 4-5 inches. I tried kitten heels once, and I slip in them. Who knows *why* God (and I use this term jokingly) created me to be inept at kitten heels and oh so good at really tall ones.

I once impressed my boss/co-workers by running across the street in heels. Bitches I drive stick and wear big heels.

(P.S. I own flats but I let my dogs destroy them at their pleasure)

I find that the best way to make my ass, stomach, and legs look toned and sexy is to work out and actually make them that way. And the best way to pull back your shoulders and throw out your bosom is to stand up straight.

I get far more whistles and appreciative comments about my ass when I'm in running tights and running shoes than in a skirt and heels. (OK, I'm sure that's because the tights are form-fitting, but still -- no heels required.) No straight man yet has ever checked out my shoes.

Sure, I wear heels once in a while, but not often. Heels do a number on your back and your feet as well as your calf muscles, especially if you're carrying a heavy bag or briefcase, or if your commute involves more than walking three feet to your car.

I like looking feminine and attractive. I don't think I need to hobble around on stilts to do that. Similarly, I do not bind my feet, lace myself into a corset, or wear rings around my neck to elongate it. A little cleavage and something with a waist seems to do the trick. No one is pretty when she limps.

> Wasn't that what the Wicked Witch said?

And your little dog, too.

(Y'all remember when D-girl fell into the pigpen? I had nightmares for YEARS... After that, the flyin' monkeys was nuthin'.)

> Bitches I drive stick and wear big heels.

You were born too late. We've discussed this, right?

> don't think I need to hobble around on stilts

Yeah. What I hate about this stuff ("forces women to throw back their shoulders and arch their backs") is that it's the first version of one of those crazy-ass lists that we used to see on Cosmo (etc.): Fifteen Ways to Make Him Understand That You're a Vaguely Sexual Human Being:

1. Nail polish!
2. Earrings!
3. Surprise packet of deli mustard with his lunchtime turkey on rye!

Y'know, if you wanna throw back your shoulders, go ahead. But if you forget to do that, he'll probably be patient about it, especially if he forgot to be rich or tall or suave or powerful at some point that day.

"No straight man yet has ever checked out my shoes."

A straight man ain't going to notice the details just the overall picture. But I *notice* and I'm a girl, and all other girls *notice*. If you didn't know it's mine and da gays job. Wear nice shoes.

"I don't think I need to hobble around on stilts to do that. "

And I can run in them heels. If you hobble in heels then you don't have any business wearing them. Look cute in flats.

"Similarly, I do not bind my feet, lace myself into a corset, or wear rings around my neck to elongate it."

Binding your feet is basically cutting your feet in half. You're like comparing waxing your genitalia with female circumcision. It just ain't the same thing.

Purplepen, you are obviously one of the people who look good wearing heels. I'm not saying nobody does! I'm saying its not a look for everybody. And its better to NOT wear heels than to wear them and look stupid if you can't pull them off. But if you can, that's pretty awesome.

I don't buy this Evo-psych stuff for heels, as heels have been in and out of fashion for both men and women. It's not a constant like youthful skin and bright eyes.

"And its better to NOT wear heels than to wear them and look stupid "

That's my reason for not wearing kitten heels-ever. I've slipped, tripped and fallen too many times.

By the way those weirdo shoes lady gaga brought back in style and now everyone is wearing:

http://urexclusives.files.wordpress.com/2010/06/blog070610_gaga.jpg

My understanding is that that is what heels originally looked like.

Be thankful they look different now.

Yeah, for some reason kitten heels are really hard to walk in.

I once impressed my boss/co-workers by running across the street in heels. Bitches I drive stick and wear big heels.

Here you go PP

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZSBrM2SybY

As if a man sees a woman and does a bunch of rapid-fire calculations, comparing the musculature of her calves with the declination of her lower spine moving in three-dimensional space, discounting a lesser bosom for some cardiovascular virtue, calibrating prevenient observations against an ideal reproductive outcome in future decades.

Ok, so I'm weird, but I can actually feel those calculations going on in my head when I look at a woman. Well, all but the one about "cardiovascular virtue". I generally like smaller breasts because in most cases, larger breasts throw off my sense of balance.

"No straight man yet has ever checked out my shoes."

Wrong.

"Fifteen Ways to Make Him Understand That You're a Vaguely Sexual Human Being"

Yeah. Given the choice between reading the wrapper on a roll of toilet paper or the latest issue of Cosmo, I'll take the Charmin roll every time.

"Yes, there are fashions that come and go, but an ass on a pedestal never goes out of style with men"

Up until the 1920's, the ass and legs were generally hidden in a long -- and generally loose or full -- skirt. That is, unless you're going back to our caveman roots again, in which case there weren't a lot of heels. Looking at the nude paintings from the Renaissance, I see a lot of slim waists, bright eyes, high breasts, and glowing, youthful skin, but not a lot of asses on pedestals. So isn't the ass on a pedestal a fairly recent thing?

And I gotta wonder how much the heels are fooling anyone. Angelina Jolie would still be hot in ballet flats or a sensible one inch heel. A flabby-assed chick might look marginally better in heels (provided she knows how to walk in them), but she's still a flabby-assed chick.

Also, while I'm sure many guys dig the heels, not all guys do. Shorter guys, for example. And dudes who would rather have a woman who can stroll hand-in-hand for a couple miles on a lovely summer evening without whining about her pinched toes. My boyfriend insists he likes me best in a slim fitting t-shirt and jeans with minimal makeup and hair intervention -- and since he says that whenever I'm dressed like that (and he met me in my running clothes at the end of a ten-mile run), I don't think he's making it up.

Wearing pretty flats instead of heels isn't quite the same thing as smothering yourself in an oversized sweatshirt with spaghetti stains down the front.

I've dated a bunch of guys 5'8" and under (I'm 5'4" and don't mind looking a guy in the eyes), and not one of them liked me to wear high heels. That's how I acquired such an extensive collection of dressy flats. Maybe all I've met is the outliers. Maybe they were all desperately insecure about their height. Or perhaps my ass stands on its own merit. I'd prefer to think it's the last one, so hey, I'm going with it.

I agree that kitten heels are hard to walk in. I think it's because they're so dang pointy on the bottom. I'm always getting them caught in sidewalk grates. That's not too sexy, although it's always good for a laugh.

Anyone remember the bit from "Romancing the Stone" where Michael Douglas saws off the heels on Kathleen Turner's shoes? Kathleen Turner: "These were Italian." Michael Douglas: "Now they're practical."

That's my kind of guy.

> A flabby-assed chick might look marginally
> better in heels (provided she knows how to
> walk in them), but she's still a
> flabby-assed chick.

As a lover of flabbies no less than other configurations, and while enjoying your comments specifically amongst those of selected others, I'm concerned that you might not fully grasp the full set of ironies at play here.

> the LOOK of heels and what it does to a woman's
> ass and walk, are generally a turn-on to men.

Only in a condensed, tightly-bounded set of youthful, often publicly social, and usually incidental contexts. (And even then, as you concede, only generally.) Like I said, this is women's-magazine-cover silliness, cheese, with very little meaning in a broader appreciation of erotic life, either a man's or a woman's.

This cheeriness of this factoid (Women look great in heels!) offends as do woman's magazine covers because they reduce everything to a to-do list, or to a laminated phrase-card for international travelers. Parlay-voo del loe toy-letta?...

...As if women didn't actually need to understand men's feelings more thoughtfully, or to inquire about them in times of emotional (and other) risk, or to respect their dynamism... Or even to SHARE them. (Not in the share-your-feelings therapeutic sense, but in actually comprehending the mood of another human being.) This is like how the airlines used to hire impoverished, illiterate Filipino women in sweatshops to transcribe used airline tickets into databases... They didn't need to know that Stapleton was in Denver, they just had to bang on the third key on the second row when that saw that one set of squiggly shapes.

Women who know the language always do better, no matter what's on their feet. Appreciation of our differences is a lifelong struggle as well as a delight, and it can't be made into a rote abstraction. For insight, it would be better to have a woman who forgives her husband of thirty years for staring at some leggy gamine at the bank than to have a naive goofball tottering uselessly on stilts during a honeymoon.

Now Crid, you're getting all deep on us, and there we were skipping (or tottering) along in the shallows.

I don't mind my dude checking out the leggy gamine on stilts as long as the woman he wants is the smart-ass in cute flats next to him, and as long as he doesn't mind my lusting after Hugh Laurie. (Yes, Hugh Laurie. More specifically, Hugh Laurie as House. Come on, I can't be alone here, can I?)

Anyway. I'm going to go out a dangerous limb and opine that, while many or most men may indeed be more likely to stare at the chick in heels, what they stare at isn't necessarily what they want in a girlfriend.

Of course, there's all that spiritual, emotional stuff Crid's talking about, which we all should know is the important thing. But even on the shallow level I think it's true. Back in his single days, a male buddy of mine said once that he thought women with bright red lip gloss and nails looked incredibly hot, but he didn't actually want to date them because he hated getting makeup all over his shirt and he didn't like women who took forever getting ready. To him the hot red lip gloss and nail polish said "sexy," but they also said "high maintenance" and "vain." He liked women who "look like they might like to go camping." It wasn't just that he likes to camp (though he does). He also thought a wholesome, natural kind of look was a good indicator of the kind of personality he preferred. I just shot him an email -- as I suspected, he doesn't like heels either! (And by the way, he's attractive, he's very successful, he's a nice guy, and he's now married - to a cute woman who likes to camp and rarely wears heels or much makeup.) Some men's mileage may differ, of course, but I think there's a fair number of men like my friend. Indeed, I'm dating one now.

I'm very far from suggesting a woman should walk around in a baggy sweatshirt and birkenstocks with an unwaxed mustache and expect dudes to think she's hot. Yeah, it's nice to look pretty. I just think that heels (and red lip gloss) are not essential to that, at least not to every guy. An awful lot of men prefer Mary Ann to Ginger. (Though maybe it's those short shorts...)

> what they stare at isn't necessarily what
> they want in a girlfriend.

Yes! Yes yes!

> there's all that spiritual, emotional stuff
> Crid's talking about

No! No no!

Spirits aren't the topic, horndoggedness is the topic... Boners, tail, things like that. People want these forces to be cuddly and phonetically manageable through oblivious techniques, like the work of the Filipino ticket-processors.

But if a person's feelings are that readily processed, someone's probably not living in full awareness. That doesn't mean your husband is gay, or that he's doing his secretary on Tuesday nooners, or pulling a Charles Kuralt "On the Road" scenario during those bimonthly sales trips to the Northwest. And it doesn't mean your wife is still giving handies to the captain of her high school football team, or that your younger son Billy's hair is suspiciously curly.

Sometimes we meet people who have perfect discipline in part of their lives. Or several parts... Never had a problem with their food habits, or drinking, or their education, or their relationships with family, or their employment, or they never had any problem with their investments or their hobbies or their friendships or their fucking. And occasionally, we meet couples who are like that.

But I think the vast majority of people struggle with that stuff, including their sexuality, or with their spouses' sexuality, and what their spouse expects of them. And quiet struggle with one's own nature (and expectations) can be a wonderful thing!... A man on the street with his wife at his arm shouldn't wolf-whistle at pretty girls, and a woman with a well-achieving husband shouldn't pester him with chatter about the husbands of friends who are doing even better. We're supposed to minimize the awareness of our partners to some feelings.

And I think there's this thing, at least over here in twenty-first century American culture, where women are inclined to fantasize —at least during drive-to-the-grocery daydreams when there's nothing good on NPR— that everything about their partner's feelings is supposed to be flattering to them, or maybe completely comforting. So they don't want to think a husband is ever making a sacrifice in his conduct, because he loves her so darned much. And if he ISN'T that spotlessly grateful for her at all times in all contexts, then it's because society teaches men to be foolish.

Very few people in public life talk about this. (People in private life don't talk about it much either.) One of the few who does is Paglia. She says it's the clear lesson of art and literature. And the humility she describes as necessary for learning this truth is what SJ Gould used to say about science; that you have to surrender your ego and presumptions to approach your study with all the curiosity and wonder of a child.

Maybe (maybe) this was easier for Paglia because she didn't have quite as much on the line in terms of reliance on masculine nature... Being a fully-modern and bookish American lesbian from an Italian heritage of strong personalities, she wasn't going to be upset to see masculine nature for what it was. (Being around nebbish academics probably didn't hurt.)

Annoyance at this factoid isn't really worth all the words I've typed about it, but it's genuine. Michael Jordan was right: It ain't the shoes, and it ain't the arched backs and it ain't the flatter stomachs. (Juanita found out the hard way.)


Years ago I was working at a network on a Saturday morning and I saw a kid in the media library wearing a T-shirt decorated thusly:

[ ] Ginger

[✓] Mary Ann

Re: Lip gloss.

(And see also if you're the sort of person who thinks everything about sex has to be entirely even-steven all the time, which is a part of the weakness in feminine nature under discussion here.)

(Harrumph.)

Also — Though I'll never be able to prove it, I think more happily married men than happily married women have one of the these neatly tucked into the filing cabinets of their immortal souls.

...Not just "Yeah, I dated Sheila for a couple weeks", but "The metaphysical purpose for twenty-four billion years of churning cosmos slipped through my grasp, but I don't talk about it."

"Ever".

"Though I'll never be able to prove it, I think more happily married men than happily married women have one of the these neatly tucked into the filing cabinets of their immortal souls."

You may be right, Crid, though there's no way to be sure one way or the other. Trust me, women have them, too.

But you know -- while we're all wistfully tucking the one who got away into our filing cabinets, it might also be healthy to tack on a post-it note reminding ourselves that part (maybe most, or maybe all) of the glamour around that person is the fact that he/she *did* get away.

Romeo and Juliet, Cathy and Heathcliff, Lancelot and Guinevere. None of them grew old together, or nagged each other about the dishes, or washed one another's dirty underwear. Would Juliet's glamour have held up after ten years of marriage and four kids? Probably not, even if she wore heels and red lip gloss. Romeo would probably tuck Rosaline into his drawer instead, even as he lived happily ever after with Juliet.

When someone does hook up with his/her mystical dream mate, it's often disillusioning. Like Whosit -- the Dudley Moore character -- and Whatserface, the Bo Derek character, in "Ten". Or House and Cuddy. Hooking them up ruined the damn show, which is why I'm heartily glad the X-Files producers had the common sense to let Scully and Mulder remain tantalizingly apart instead of hitching them up and saddling them with an adorable toddler.

At this very moment, I've got a dude with beautiful black curly hair in my drawer. He's been there since my early 20s. And even given the chance, I'd prefer to leave him there. I'm fairly certain my wistful longing would not stand the test of seeing him as a chubby, balding accountant (or whatever he's doing these days). And even if he's unchanged, I suspect that some of the things I found dashing and intriguing back then would just be freaking annoying to me today.

Anyway, my dude is welcome to the drawer and the file (as long as I'm entitled to mine), but I'll respect him more if the post-it note is appended.

By the way, Crid, how do you do all that neat formatting stuff in your comments? I'm forced to resort to lame crap like asterisks to add emphasis, and I'm sick with envy. Sick, I tell you.

Yonder

(More after work)

See, that's how we know you're a woman. YOU TALK ABOUT IT. Men don't so much, because what would they say?

Movies? Mediocre ones? 500 Days of Summer. Men will recognize the flow of the narrative even if they don't feel the (presumably) thundering allure of that starlet (as I don't).

Because, like, even though that Autumn looks like a really sweet, sturdy gal, her parents might as well have named her Next.

"See, that's how we know you're a woman. YOU TALK ABOUT IT."

Now wait just a minute, Crid. We have a pot/kettle situation here.

Not sure what would be worse, naming your kid "Next" or "Autumn." Either way, your baby girl is probably destined to become a stripper someday, unless she joins a hippie cult.