High-heeled shoes! How I remember them from the age of six when I stumbled about in my mother’s, imitating the latest Hollywood star.
I started work at the age of 14 and, as a shoe shop assistant, I had my pick. Within two years I was wearing the choicest fashion shoes and thinking I was very grown-up indeed.
When new consignments appeared, I’d parade about in the latest fashion and the manager was never aware, as the ladies’ department was on the upper floor. There was plenty of warning time if he were about to make an inspection.
The queen of shoes was, and still is the plain court. I realised how well I held myself while walking in them. I was taller than my actual inches, head held high. I really felt somebody, my bottom wiggled and this brought the attention of the boys and drew their eyes in the right direction.
Fully-fashioned stockings in a shade of orange known as American Tan were very popular at the time. They went well with the black day dresses of the salon. When worn inside out the back seam of the stockings was raised, giving the appearance of slimmer legs.
Once I became established in a supervisory position, all my shoes were three-inch heels. Not all heels were pencil-slim in the early days; some were called Louis heels. These were shaped in at the middle and flared to an inch at the base, a fashion which had been brought in again from the Twenties era. We assistants knew them as elevatory heels.
Oh! how I loved the strappy sandals and peep-toes. There were backless shoes and ankle straps; the designs were endless. Pale pastel shades came into fashion but black patent shoes were always my favourite.
I wore all these silly styles, and high heels were no problem to me. I recall when I was 20, standing at the top of the stairs of a famous High Street shoe shop. I would greet the ladies and place them in the care of an assistant, saying: “Forward, Miss Jones”.
This continued all day-long, my shoes never causing any problems.
I even wore a pair of pale pink leather sandals named Bare Necessity, consisting of two very narrow straps across the base of the toes and two equally narrow at the heel forming ankle straps. There was hardly a shoe there, but how fashionable, how inviting, and how glamorous!
All the shoes in stock had names with which we flattered the customers constantly, remarking how well Madam looked in Chanticleer.
Those really were elegant days. After years of austerity in the 1940s and early 50s the longer- length clothes added allure and refinement to the most everyday wear; one could walk tall with a long umbrella, a fashion item then, and for the first time in many years matching accessories were at hand. The hat, the handbag, gloves and shoes: the feeling was sheer ecstasy.
Sometimes I would arrive home with as many as three pairs of shoes from a new consignment.
My beloved would groan and say: “Not more!”
Later came the Swinging Sixties, a vibrant decade with high heels in abundance. Stilettoed winkle-pickers appeared which suited my narrow feet, their dagger-sharp quarter-inch steel-tipped heels making a clatter and letting all the world know you were coming.
They caused major damage to dance and parquet-floors, not to mention the body. Back problems and altered balance led to painful physical conditions, and stepping-back on to someone’s toes in a crowded room could cause interesting facial expressions.
These stilettos were lethal, but I walked on oblivious to the trail of havoc behind me.
And, yes, you could run for a bus in them.
Today my poor feet can tell a tale. They are deformed with bunions, hammer and crossed toes, none of which, fortunately, give me discomfort.
I still wear high heels, although slightly lower by half an inch. Blow my feet, I think. Having loved and enjoyed walking tall for many years I still have good carriage. I hope I can go for a good many years wearing this regal, superior and most elegant of footwear. ^
Hilda Williams
