I ask because Christian Louboutin recently told Grazia that he doesn’t care if you find his shoes uncomfortable. “If you can’t walk in them, don’t wear them,” he said. Having seen many a woman hobble around London, pigeon-toed, red-soled and cramped with pain, I’d have to agree with him. But not for the reasons he thinks. Louboutin says that high heels are a “pleasure with pain” experience. But why is that so?

Historically, the super tall heel was a sexual thing, fetishized by men who loved the way it made a woman’s back arch just so. And then it became a symbol of female empowerment, underscoring the power suit. But over the past ten years, we’ve seen the vertiginous shoe become a hardcore fashion thing, gradually growing in height and garishness. And the pain that comes with stuffing yourself into, say, a tight leather toe box propped up on a six-inch wooden heel becomes something we learn to ignore. Never mind that we’re losing feeling in our pinky toe. It’s all about the look. And so we think nothing of stuffing ourselves into the shoes we’ve lusted after in much the same way Victorian-era women used to risk a bruised rib for a corset.

I know first-hand because I’ve purchased a good many pairs of stilettos and platforms that work much better as eye candy on a shelf in my bedroom than on the hard pavement on my way to work. It’s not that all high heels are painful to wear. They aren’t. But oftentimes, the most thrilling, camera-catching ones are. Hardware, metallic tips, spikes and chunky crystals don’t always make for the softest wear. Meanwhile, sales of ballet flats go through the roof as we all continue to look to them as that little source of relief to be rolled up and tucked away in our handbags. So … on top of walking around in uncomfortable shoes, we’re also carrying a purse that is twice as heavy as it needs to be. Fun! Maybe I’m feeling a little more sensitive to this issue than usual because I’m at the tale end of what has felt like a forever-long pregnancy — one in which my decreasing tolerance for foot discomfort has led me to start collecting fancy flats.

In the process I’ve begun to develop a new appreciation for those women who defy the age-old attitudes that we’re at our most beautiful and empowered when we’re teetering around on seven inches. Shala Monroque, pictured above in shoes she can actually walk in, comes to mind. I’ll never forget one of our fashion week lunches together in which she refreshingly mentioned that she has zero tolerance for overly vertiginous heels. Her endless array of delicate, kitten and moderately high heels look ten times more interesting and unexpected than the tallest, most tricked out platforms. Meanwhile, recently in Paris, the shoe designer Chrissie Morris told me that she often finds herself feeling sorry for women who wear six inches during the day simply for the fact that their mobility is so limited. Her fall collection features a great selection of flatform creepers and low-heeled ankle boots.

To be honest, the fashion world seems to be gradually moving away from the ostentatious heel (or the ‘freakum shoe’ to quote a close friend.) It’s too closely associated with the stuff of NBA wives’ closets and music video looks. It just reads a little dated. Witness, how refreshing Manolo Blahnik’s more understated BB pumps, in every possible colorway and texture, looked in J.Crew’s fall show.

I bring all of this up not to argue against the high heel. I have no plans to retire my leg-lengthening Alaïas anytime soon. But perhaps its time to recognize the fact that, as women, we’ve started holding each other accountable to a dated notion that doesn’t really factor in with our everyday lives — let alone look remotely interesting, sexy or new. It’s easy for a male designer to dismiss a woman’s complaints about a shoe when he doesn’t have to wear it.

Hi guys,

Sorry the blog posts have been so slow going lately. Blame our new, shinier and faster site, ModMods, which is where I’ll be hanging out from now on. The online team is still working out some kinks. But in the meantime, you can enjoy the Beta version. And going forward, you can find my random musings, diatribes and updates over there.

Talk soon,

Kenya

Elsa Mehary is the kind of girl who doesn’t let overweight luggage or small air cabins stand in her way when it comes to scoring a good apartment find. “I can remember being 19-years-old and hand carrying a large glass lantern from Cairo back on the plane because it was too fragile to pack in my luggage,” she says of one of the many conversation-starting details in her impressively curated pad. “But now, the same lamp can be found in SoHo or a store like West Elm, imported for half the price and minus the story of adventure in an intricate maze of bazaars,” she adds.

Elsa has lived in her unusually large apartment in Park Slope, Brooklyn for 15 years and she’s spent that time filling the place with carefully chosen figures and textiles she’s picked up traveling to places such as Bali, India and Tulum. Many people talk about wanting to create a home that transports a person somewhere else. But Elsa has actually pulled it off. “I think of my apartment as a serene oasis in the center of chaos,” she says.

She’s achieved an overall look and feeling of zen through a mix of spiritual figures and colors that she found in near and far-flung places. There’s the gold head of Buddha she found in Chinatown: “It’s really heavy but I love the serenity it brings to the space.” And an ornate cross that lies next to a box of Bach flower remedies imported from Israel. “I was born in Ethiopia and plan on returning there this year to visit all the amazing churches built into the ground in Lalibela. The cross is a traditional Orthodox relic from Addis Adabaa originally owned by my mom,” she explains.

“The look of my apartment is constantly changing,” Elsa admits. But the sense of calm never changes. “I incorporate the feng shi principles in determining location of color throughout the house.”

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.