My Principality

[Air Talia Pump ($198) with Nike Air Technology]

There are lots of women who live for shoes. They collect them. They cherish them. It’s a Cinderella fetish I do not share. Shoes annoy me. They never fit right. They nearly always hurt. I spent my childhood barefoot—in the grass, at the dance studio, around the pool. My nickname growing up was Twinkle Toes. I was always happiest without shoes. 

My father believes that shoes project an image to the world of what kind of girl you are. And based on my shoe choices in high school, he worried that I’d be mistaken for a homeless hillbilly or a prostitute. Most mornings, I’d stand at the kitchen island, shoveling Life Cereal into my mouth, my backpack strap slung over my shoulder. Dad in his starchy white button down would stare down at my flip flops, clear his throat—sore from acid reflux, and grumble, “You shouldn’t wear shower shoes in public.” He would have paid private school tuition just to keep me in closed toed shoes. 

Dad needed an extra tablespoon of Maalox antacid on Friday nights when I’d teeter out in my Payless wedges. “You can’t leave the house in those backless heels,” my father would shout after me as I’d jump in my best friend’s Jeep Wrangler. “We used to call those f*ck me shoes—.” 

On Saturday morning, my father would try a more gentle tactic. He’d take me to the mall. “You just need a good pair of kick around shoes,” he’d say wistfully, while leading me towards Brooks Brother’s. If I wore penny loafers, he was certain people would think: That girl’s father must be a real class act. He’s a groovy guy I’d like to meet.

Cole Haan has added Nike Air technology to create more comfortable heels. These are shoes my father would approve of. I tested them out last weekend, and to my surprise, they were comfortable. I stood at a party for four hours and walked two Hollywood blocks without complaining once. I give an extra enthusiastic thumbs up for the anti-slip traction on the bottom.