Men in Heels

Feminists hate them and podiatrists warn you about them. But who would have thought that the much-maligned heeled footwear was instrumental to the victory of the Persian Empire against the fierce Ottoman army?  It all started when Shah Abbas, a Persian king of the Safavids Dynasty apparently had a gut-full of arrogance from its western neighbour who had taken some of their territories under the reign of his weak predecessors. To make his statement even more evident, the Shah cut a Turkish official’s beard and sent it to the Ottoman’s leader as a sign of defiance. And we all know how those men love their beards, right? Needless to say, such gesture aggravated the already strained relationship of the then powerful empires.

The Persian riding heels made from horse-hide

Expecting retaliation, the Shah consulted with his generals to plan military strategies and to ensure victory over the Turkish army this time around. The Shah had everything covered; his horsemen were made to wear footwear with heels during battles. Now, I’m no authority with horse riding. The last time I was on the back of the horse was when I was in Tagaytay a few years back. And you know those horse operators are so good in selling the ‘cowboy experience’ to unsuspecting tourist like me. But anyway, going back to my point. The horsemen wore heels not for fashion statement; the choice of footwear had practical application. The heels were worn to prevent their foot from sliding through the stirrup hence, giving them secure stance and precision while shooting arrows at their enemies. The use of heels during battles may have been a success that the Persian cavalry of 15,000 consequently claimed a decisive victory against the Turkish army in 1605 and the eventual return of their territories. The fateful battle became known in the Ottoman military history as “The War Against Heeled Horsemen”. True story.

These shoes are made for ruling

The victory associated with men wearing heels reverberated around Europe. For one, the nobility of France under Louis XIV took the footwear elevation on board and made the heels de rigueur to men of influence. So while the farmers toil the land and impossible tax rates were imposed on them, there was dandy Louis sashaying on his 4-inch heels with his mates from the Second Estate. He wore impractical footwear and probably had an amusing gait, but no one cared, he was the king! Last person who laughed saw his head rolled in a woven basket. But of course we knew that men of short stature like Louis, who stood at 5ft 4in, wore the heels to puff-up their physical authority in the same way Marie Antoinette puffed her famous beehive hairdo. The only difference is that Marie did her bouffant while telling the people of France to ‘let them eat cakes’.  

But Louis was married to a different woman, an equally forceful Francoise d’Aubigne. So as not to appear that Francoise wore the pants (or culottes) in their relationship, Louis asked his shoemaker to decorate his heels with scenes that depicted famous battles to make him a little bit, eherm, masculine. And while the shoemaker was busy with  heel decorating, Louis suggested that the heels would also look good if painted in red. From then on, red heeled footwear became a symbol of high status in Europe. Four hundred years later, Christian Louboutin, a French shoe designer, made red sole as his trademark signature, an attributed link to Louis, no doubt. Every year, thousands of women fork out big money to put their dainty feet inside his decadent skyscraper heels. But then, that’s another story.

Shoe Shame

I believe I hoard shoes by default. I was born and raised in Marikina, a town that has the coveted title of  'The Shoe Capital of the Philippines'. The same town where you can find the 'Biggest Pair of Shoes in the World' and a museum that displays the 800 of the 3000 pairs of shoes accumulated by the corrupt political matriarch, Imelda Marcos. On a personal level, my maternal uncles and aunties have owned small shoe factories for many years and I knew, all along, that I am bound by familial duty to uphold and protect the shoe industry by buying a pair or two or more when opportunities arise.

A small part of my stash

With over two hundred pairs of shoes sitting in my cabinets and many hidden spots in my house, I felt guilt and perhaps an avalanche of shame, when I saw a viral photo in Facebook. The haunting photo shows a pair of extremely weathered feet wearing sandals made of flattened soft drink plastic bottles held by bark strings. The image of the ashen feet triggers uncomfortable thoughts. How can I possibly be affected by my seemingly shallow concern of what pair of shoes to wear whenever I go out? While others become creative with plastic bottles out of necessity, I can't count the times when I have hidden boxes of new shoes inside the trunk of my car to avoid teasing from household member. Does living in Australia over two decades finally stole my idealism to live a socially responsible existence? In a dramatic moment of self-flagellation I cried:  'Oh shame, shame, shame is my middle name!'  Actually, it is Dionisio.

The image that haunts shoe hoarders

This Easter weekend seems to be an auspicious occasion to rectify my moral impropriety for keeping too many shoes, some of which I haven't even worn. I shall sort and put them in boxes and leave them in the care of churches that run Op Shops. And to the person wearing the plastic bottle sandals, you will always be in my mind whenever I feel the urge to gravitate to the shoe shops. If only you wore size 7 shoes and wouldn't mind wearing heels while working in the field or walking for miles to the safety of a refugee camp; I would send the shoe parcels to you in an instant.