No one loves a good pair of high heels more than I do.
I wore my first real pair at a school bazaar. I was 16 and in love with a boy. I sneakily tucked my mother’s cream leather pumps into my bag and slipped into them as soon as I saw him waiting for me at the entrance of the school hall.
He was tall; my heels were perfect; we danced all night long. And just like that, with a Halle and Oats song playing on a vinyl record, my romance with 5-inch heels began.
And it pretty much remains to date, the longest love affair I’ve had.