Sad Toes & a Slip of Slip

Double-breasted jacket: Edge brand, $6 (thrifted)

Green scarf: Van Heusen, $7

Black dress: Simply Vera brand from Kohl's, $12
Ring on my right hand: gift from my mom

Lacey slip: $2 (thrifted)

Yellow tights: Forever 21, $1.50

Red suede heels: Classiques Enter brand, $5 (thrifted)

Yay, new-to-me heels! They're red! They're suede! They're Italian! They're really pretty! ... Wait, they're also really painful. My true shoe size is 7.5, but because sizes can kind of fluctuate between brands, I sometimes wear a 7 or 8 as well, and these shoes are 7. When I tried them on in the store and at home, they were pleasantly snug, like the waistband on your jeans after a good Thanksgiving dinner. Turns out that walking in these shoes for an extended period changed the vibe from "pleasantly snug" to "unpleasantly ripping my toenails off."

To me, high heels represent the ultimate in grown-up sophistication. I remember being a little girl at home and hearing my mom rush around on Sundays, trying to get all us kids ready for church, and the "click-clack" sound that her heels made on the linoleum sounded so glamorous, so adult. Even now, when I'm walking around in heels of my own, I get a little thrill when I walk across a tile or wood floor and hear the "click-clack" sound.

Now that I'm a bonified grown-up and have worn my fair share of high heels, I have to say, I'm less convinced of the awesomeness of this shoe type. I'm a little taller, sure, and my legs look longer, and my posture is a little more va-va-voom. But I also teeter when I walk. I run the risk of spraining my ankle. I end up with sore toes and pained arches at the end of the day. Besides that, I'm not sure how good I feel about wearing shoes that hurt me for the sake of looking more "feminine." Not the best rationale, methinks. I'm all the feminine I need to be, even in socks and sweatpants. The idea that I have to take on an arbitrary, painful piece of footwear in order to be more womanly is non-sensical (and a little insulting, like that's what makes someone a woman -- her shoes).

So now what? How do I confront the consequences, both physical and political, of wearing my pretty new red shoes? Do y'all ever have second thoughts about what your clothes are "saying," what message you're sending through your style choices? (I should clarify, just for good measure, that these particular shoes weren't painful because they have heels - it was all about the sizing, in this case. I'm not anti-heels. I own and love several pairs. =)

Time out from the serious talk: look at all this color! This is my second week of participating in The Color Brigade. Truth to tell, I welcomed the chance to renovate this little black dress with a little extra color punch.

Having read a life's supply of style advice columns, I'm well-aware that every woman should have a go-to little black dress in her closet (the LBD, they call it), so whenever I encounter a new LBD while shopping, I'm drawn toward it. Somehow, I've ended up buying numerous black dresses, none of which are really right! Does anyone else have this problem?

This one, for instance, is great in every way except for the length. If I'm standing perfectly still, then I feel okay about it, but if I'm walking, sitting, or shifting in any way, I run the risk of showing too much leg. The addition of this cream-colored, lace-trimmed slip (which I thrifted the other day for $2) makes everything fine and dandy, so I can stop worrying about modesty (and focus all of my stress toward my poor, poor feet!). If I'm lucky, people thought the slip was part of the dress; if not, they thought I forgot to check a mirror before leaving the house. Either way, I'm good!

Head over to cute & little to see all the other Color Brigade-rs strut their stuff!