If you are a man reading this, I imagine you’ve spent as much time thinking about heeled boots as I have. That is to say, you’ve never thought about them. They are of course, all sorts of wrong. Only more so.
You wouldn’t clomp about in these, you’d just sort of ‘climp’. Climpy, climpy, climp. All jutty and pointy and angley. Like Brett Anderson of Suede. Or one of Vic and Bob’s Stotts.
These nasties are from Maison Margiela. I have no idea who the audience is? Tony Curtis in The Persuaders perhaps? But that was in the early 70s. On a TV show. About playboy sleuths. This is London. Now.
To be fair, if you hang about Curtain Road over in East London for long enough, you’ll see some young blade self-consciously ‘climp’ past in something approaching these. He’ll be seven foot tall and twiggish, like a Matchmaker. He’ll have a mane, laser-tight jeans and he’ll prance along like he’s impersonating a horse. You can easily catch him peeking out the corner of his eye to see if you’ve clocked him as he canters past. He’ll be in an indie band and he’ll pretend he doesn’t want to become famous. He checks his Soundcloud followers constantly.
Anyway, you can look like him if you want. It’ll only cost you 600 odd quid for the booties and another 40 for some shitty Cheap Monday jeans. You can work on the faux arty angst yourself.