High-heel haters gonna hate. But below are a few (more) pro-heels arguments from readers. I love this one from Allyssa:
My first pair of heels were burgundy pumps with pointed toes, ankle straps, and six inches of lift that were purchased with a single parent’s income from a department store clearance rack. For an undeniably awkward teenager, they didn’t just click as I walked through the halls at speech and debate tournaments. They loudly announced my prowess, my success, and my power. I became known as The Girl in the Red Shoes. And I have never looked back.
Through various stages of my life and career—weight gain, failed relationships, bad haircuts—sky-high heels have always made me feel like the woman I want to be: Someone who embodies a uniquely feminine strength, someone who owns any room she walks into, and someone who can play with the boys without having to be one.
And here’s Lisa, who likes the aesthetics of heels:
I am an architect and appreciate good design, including the design of shoes. Flats and loafers can be cute, but my eyes are always drawn to platform heels and high-heeled booties. I am 5'7" and love feeling tall when wearing high heels. Obviously heels are not suitable when on construction sites, but I have a great pair of bubblegum pink construction boots for that!
Lisa adds, “I get complimented on my heels more by random men on the street than by women.” Maybe men should try the heels for themselves? That’s what a group of guys did for this viral video:
Many emails are coming in from my reader callout tied to Megan’s feature on the future of high heels, “Arch Enemies.” The first one comes from a self-described “career woman in Minnesota who NEVER wears high heels” and who challenges some common narratives surrounding ladies in stilettos:
The idea of wearing them to “feel taller” is beyond me. If that’s the case, short men should be suffering in stilettos instead of relatively comfortable platform shoes—if they care at all about their height, that is. I liken stilettos to Chinese foot-binding—just another way to make women helpless, while at the same time telling them it makes them powerful. They’re not good for your feet, and certainly not good for your back: Ask any podiatrist or chiropractor (but don’t ask Stacy London [the fashion consultant and reality TV host]). And never mind running away from a mugger—or chasing a mugger—wearing heels. It only works in the movies.
Google “high heel quotes,” and this is the type of hype you will see:
Superwomen do it in high heels.
Strong women wear their pain like stilettos. No matter how much it hurts, all you see is the beauty in it.
How can you live the high life if you don’t wear high heels?
They might be painful, but they are a girl’s best friend
[The Marilyn Monroe quote seen above] particularly bothers me. Grrrrrr.
Here’s an anonymous reader, who also chimes in “from the high-heel-hater side of the argument”:
I love clothes, and I love shoes all too much, but I’ve disliked very high heels at least since I was in high school and that’s a long time ago. Why? I dislike them because the human foot was never meant to be raised up like that. I’m looking for clothes that make me feel free, happy, and able to go wherever I want, in comfort and style.
Sorry for the high-heel lovers, but I think those stilettos that you just purchased for a small fortune are plain old ugly. And even worse, they make you look like a wounded animal when you try to move in them. I can’t help but wonder if that’s the appeal of them to a certain kind of guy. Fortunately, I’m married to a guy who thinks they are as dumb as I do.
When I think of beauty in clothes, I think of clothes that enhance someone’s natural gracefulness, not something that makes a woman look she is hurting with every step or is playing dress-up in her mom’s shoes. One of the saddest things about coming home to the U.S. from almost anywhere in the world is realizing how so many Americans dress with no self-respect or attempt to look like they even halfway care about themselves. At the same time, it’s sad to see how many of those who do care only care about following the latest dictates from a the fashion industry. Beauty is not about being a slave to ridiculous fashions; it’s about caring for yourself. And if you don’t even care to treat your feet with respect, I think it’s hard to care about yourself.
Here’s another reader, Ulash, on a particular topographical challenge:
In my early adult life, when I was living in London, I would strut around in my heels because all my friends were wearing fabulous shoes with high heels. It was the norm. I would notice by 1pm at work that my feet hurt with blisters. I was always questioning: Why do I wear high heels? Is it because society defines them as being sexy?
Anyway, fast forwarding to ten years later, when I moved to the United States—specifically San Francisco—I think I wore heels the first year then stopped. Why, you ask? Because SF has so many hills, making it challenging to strut in heels! Plus, I noticed the culture in SF is a little different than London, that it’s more acceptable to wear loafers and comfortable shoes. So I’ve traded heels for loafers, and I must admit: I love it!
Now, when I watch women strutting in high heels, I am so happy for them. But I wonder to myself, are they comfortable?
As someone who once lived in a particularly hilly part of San Francisco, I can confirm: those hills are not heel friendly. And I never would’ve shown up to work at a tech-startup in heels. Even boots felt formal. Another reader hits this point: “I don’t think it matters in tech world. Where I work, nobody wears high heels, unfortunately, and it is highly discouraged for practical and safety reasons.”
What drives you to slap on a pair of stilettos? Let me know.
Megan recently spoke with Dolly Singh, a former employee of SpaceX and the current CEO of the shoe design firm Thesis Couture, about her company’s attempt to build a comfortable stiletto. Along the way, Megan muses:
It’s appropriate, though, that creating those shoes would transform from a “project” to a broader purpose: The appeal of heels—not just of sky-high stilettos, but also of their less audacious cousins—lies, most broadly, in their ability to function not just as footwear, but also as small, wearable symbols of mankind’s tendency toward restless ambition. Heels have emerged from roughly the same impulse that led to cathedrals and skyscrapers and, yes, rockets: our desire to be taller, and grander, and generally more than we once were.
That allure—of being something bigger than oneself—resonated with this reader:
What a wonderful article! Thank you! I happen to love wearing high heels, and it’s embarrassing to admit, since I find flats much more comfy. My reason for liking them is that I’m a bit short, and heels make me tall. Taller, anyway. When I put on high heels, I’m suddenly 2"- 3" higher, and I feel a greater sense of power. It’s much nicer to be able to look people in the eye and not have to look up at them.
As for the sexy factor, I suppose they make us look sleeker, and men like that, and of course. But the fact is that I LOVE feeling taller. If I could wave a magic wand and be taller, I’d wave it like crazy!
Another reader is a bit more skeptical, but she acknowledges the possible utility of high heels for a shorter coworker:
I abandoned high heels after a serious injury that left me with a limp for several years. I could wear them now, in theory, but I’ve lost the habit and don’t miss it. Wearing flat shoes or low, stacked heels (generally loafers and not ballet flats) hasn’t hurt my career at all.
The only woman over 35 who regularly wears high heels at my office is tiny and probably going for the height. Otherwise, heels seem to be for the young women in the lower-ranking jobs, while the older women who actually run the place wear more practical shoes.
So. Let’s talk about heels. Why do you choose to wear them? If not, why not? Shoot me your shoe stories: hello@theatlantic.com.