London, England

As far as I can remember, wearing heels was always a childhood desire of mine: the softness of the leather upon my skin, the undulation of the sole shaping my foot, the height of the polished, thin wooden heel enhancing my silhouette. While wearing my mother’s heels– and despite my clumsy walk due to their size– I felt that I was the new Cinderella of the twentieth century: elegant and graceful with her Louboutin stilettos. I would have worn them all day if the noise had not annoyed and disturbed my neighbors. I cherish those precious moments when the heels and I would become one– when I could close my eyes and be suddenly transported into another dimension, like a fairytale.

Later, when I was first given my very own pair of heels, you could almost see the glitter and stars in my eyes. At this moment, I was sure I had become a “real woman”. I could make the pounding of my stilettos ring and echo on every street and avenue, stairs and floors. No matter how painful it was, for the first time of my life I was feeling self-confident and powerful. This feeling by far outweighed my cramps and blisters.

These heels embody my passage from a child to a woman– a girl changing her flat shoes for a pair of pumps. When I wore them, I felt I was grown up, and that I could be feminine and powerful. I felt that everything was possible with these shoes and that I could even become one of the trendy businesswomen we see in the movies. Wearing heels made me ambitious and confident because while walking in them, it was as if Sarah Jessica Parker in Sex and the City, Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada and Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman were with me. Even now, when my foot gently slides into my suede pumps, I look at myself in the mirror. When I begin to walk and finally hear the sound of my shoes, a positive and confident energy enters in me with every clic-clac of the heel. In this moment, I know that the day can begin, and that I will enjoy each minute of it.

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