“That girl could really use your song.”
The scene at Coco Deville in Los Angeles on Saturday night was smokey, hot, and crowded with gorgeous faces. My friend Anna was pointing out a girl at the bar whose stilettos were soaked amidst a puddle of what used to be a martini, with a fallen olive and broken glass scattered at her feet. She didn’t look very happy. But Anna, dancing her way over to the unnamed girl, made it a point to let her know that one of my upcoming singles would be addressing the very issue of drunken antics of which she happened to be a victim.
That moment kicked off a fun night of dancing with friends. I had just gotten back from the East Coast, traveling from radio station to radio station, performing, interviewing, and hanging out with the coolest of the cool. I had rocked out in my stilettos for 16-hour days that entire week and beyond, and somehow, I was still able to dance the night away. My “Bernadette” and “Petra” Pour La Victoire’s served me well that week, with not one blister or callus to complain about.
A few months ago, my feet were thrilled to say goodbye to that choice between looking good and feeling good. An angel of a woman had sent a box of shoes straight to my hotel room in NYC so that I could consider using a pair for my music video shoot. We were short on time with a hectic shooting schedule, and I had to pick the pair that I loved the most. So I did. But what ensued was more than a fashion statement. It was the realization that the old saying “Beauty is pain” couldn’t have been farther from the truth when it came to dressing up my step to my heart’s content.
The art of stiletto-shoe adornment had always been a mystery to me growing up. Spending most of my pre-teen days either in hand-me-down sneakers or barefoot for martial arts, I had once imagined that the fearless women who donned those impossibly daring heels were simply blessed with a respectably high pain tolerance and warrior feet. I loved how they looked, and I loved how they seemed to represent the fun celebration of being a woman. But those high-heeled horror stories I heard as a child kept me at a distance, and the thought hadn’t quite occurred to me that both comfortable and fashionable heels were even feasible. (I know, I know … it should have been a no-brainer. Otherwise, dance-intensive divas such as Beyonce would suffer from broken ankles on a regular basis.) But being the kind of girl who goes for comfort over cute, most likely my subconscious was purposely overlooking the truth, in an uninformed effort to keep me in my cozy sneakers a little bit longer. Of course, admiration from afar never lasts long, and my curiosity eventually got the best of me.
There was no need to worry, though. I know now that personal fashion can indeed coexist with comfort in the sweetest way, without having to sacrifice the savoir faire of my stride for stylistic satisfaction. And truly, “If the shoe fits”, there is no need to compromise any part of ourselves for the things we want to achieve. It’s all about balance … figuratively, and literally.
The rest of my week is filled with songwriting, rehearsals, and interviews, in preparation for the continuation of my radio tour, speckled with Kenpo lessons, midnight video game adventures, and late night Hollywood excursions. Thankfully, my feet will carry me wherever I want to go. And knowing that I can walk for THAT long, well … Those stilettos never looked so damn good.
‘Til next week.