Heel Porn

Gianvito Rossi - electrify!

Have you fallen in love recently? 

 

I have. They cost XXXeuro !!

I swear I’m trying my best to move on to the next guy. I mean pair of heels. 

This is what I CANNOT STAND ABOUT LIVING IN ITALY. And what’s worse is when an expert internet shopper friend (grazie mille Susi!) joins you for an afternoon of dedicated heel browsing. I surrender! So much more alluring than a dating site. Oh, geez, a thousand times over.

Since when did shopping become so sinful? At first it was just a crazy afternoon thang, or being tossed about between sale seasons, or a guilty shopping bag under your coat when you crept in the door after dark. And the new heels worn only after a couple of weeks so as not to arouse suspicion. 

What? These old things? Had them for years..

But these days internet shopping is hardcore. It’s two steps away from porn. You should have heard the ooohhhs and aaaahhhhs from the kitchen table the other afternoon. The photos favourited and whatsapped. The number of times we came back to our dirty favourites. And how we pored and pored. And pored. Left side view, from the back, oh the lovely shot from the front dyou like these ones??

I swear. Is this what guys do over big boobs and wild positions?

And it truly does feel so sinful. As you go deeper and deeper down the page it is a descent into fiery, credit-card melting depths. To get this far you have to toss your soul out the window or better, sell her to the shoe devil that has overtaken your mind... Jimmy Choo, Dior, YSL, Charlotte Olympia.. Oh the shiver! And these thrills are not cheap I tell you.

And of course the WORST thing you can do is internet shop when there’s a bottle of vodka in the freezer. Right? When you have a couple of hours to kill before a dinner party and the time is just-right. Don’t go there ladies. Don’t open that bottle. Don’t get out those shot glasses.

It will hurt.

Ahh but sinning feels so good, doesn’t it? The shock of the new. The burst of the new season. The touch of new, groomed leather against your skin.

Okay. Deep breath. A bit of yoga or saintly mediation? Nahhh… I promise I didn’t buy a pair. Yet. 

It’s, err, not as if my, um, shoe cupboard is empty.