After well over half a lifetime studying, contemplating and documenting the
vagaries of human behaviour and psychology, I must issue a confession. There is
one significant trait of my fellow earthlings which leaves me utterly baffled
and stumped. I am talking about shoes.
I first became fully aware of women’s relationship with footwear while still in my teens. An attractive young woman with whom I was nurturing a friendship casually remarked that she could never go out with me because I wore bad shoes. She said it with such certainty that it was clear she considered this not a temporary lapse in my fashion sense, but a profound and permanent character flaw. She could happily overlook my big wonky ears, ginger hair, freckles and lisp, but my scruffy supermarket pumps were the deal-breaker.
Many years later, one of my dearest friends was grumbling about the blisters and bruises being caused by her latest proud purchase. I muttered something about taking more care when trying things on in the shop and she looked at me as if I had started speaking fluent Martian. “I’d never not buy a nice pair of shoes just because they didn’t fit!” she exclaimed, then we sat gawping at each other while silent mutual incomprehension calcified the air.
I had thought men’s relationship with footwear was more simple. Yes, some men collect trainers the way I collect music and others collect stamps, but we really don’t care that much what women wear on their feet, do we? Or so I thought until this month, when academia came along to shatter my complacency. It turns out that the typical man does indeed care about women’s shoes and, surprise, surprise, it is high heels that press his buttons.
A study in the new issue of the Archives of Sexual Behaviour reveals that a woman who stands in the street and asks passing men for help in filling out a survey, or who “accidentally” drops a glove will get more positive responses if she is wearing heels than flats. She’ll also attract more attention when sitting in a bar. The author Nicolas Guéguen said that a woman’s heel size “exerts a powerful effect on men’s behaviour”. He was unsure why this should be happening, but suggested that the over-association of high heels with women’s sexiness and could lead men to misinterpret the sexual intent of women with high heels.
It is hard to argue with this. Even the most committed evolutionary psychologist would struggle to claim that our ancestors on the savanna enjoyed an evolutionary advantage if they propped up their arches on a couple of twigs while sabre-toothed tigers were on the prowl. As tactical mating strategies go, that one would be pretty stupid.
Further light is shone on the issue by the latest edition of Podiatry Now (I have the best bedtime reading). Given the damage that can be done to women’s feet by high-heeled shoes, podiatrists have an obvious interest in this matter.
Into the fray steps Dr Chris Morriss-Roberts, Britain’s leading expert in podolinguistics (quite possibly Britain’s only expert in podolinguistics, but credit where it’s due). He heard of a case of a 90-year-old woman with extensive feet problems caused by her footwear, who admitted that she wore high heels to look attractive to her husband. When asked, he admitted that he’d always hated the bloody things. I paraphrase, but not much. This set Morriss-Roberts off on a quest to find out what heterosexual men really think about women’s shoes. I read the paper eagerly anticipating the twist – surely it would transpire that after all these years of bunions and claw-toe, men really don’t care what women have on their feet?
It turned out that few men agree with the elderly husband (and me) and most are helpless suckers for a high heel and a strap. They reported being excited by the assertive brand of femininity they imply. As one research participant put it: “I sense authority behind that … what’s going on for me with high heels is a sense of politics, behind that there is an element of vulnerability, and a sense that the foot is being controlled by the shoe.”
Let us not forget that a stiletto is a weapon designed to slide through the ribs and stab the heart.
For what it is worth (ie nothing), personally I’m more attracted to a woman who looks like she can drink me under the table then carry me home, making a sturdy pair of DMs just the ticket. I live in hope that one day the human race will view high heels with the same horror with which we view foot-binding. Women would be spared innumerable podiatric agonies and men would, I think, just about cope. Until then I shall content myself with the knowledge that I’m right and the rest of the human race is a bit daft. And these supermarket pumps? They’re actually very comfortable you know.
I first became fully aware of women’s relationship with footwear while still in my teens. An attractive young woman with whom I was nurturing a friendship casually remarked that she could never go out with me because I wore bad shoes. She said it with such certainty that it was clear she considered this not a temporary lapse in my fashion sense, but a profound and permanent character flaw. She could happily overlook my big wonky ears, ginger hair, freckles and lisp, but my scruffy supermarket pumps were the deal-breaker.
Many years later, one of my dearest friends was grumbling about the blisters and bruises being caused by her latest proud purchase. I muttered something about taking more care when trying things on in the shop and she looked at me as if I had started speaking fluent Martian. “I’d never not buy a nice pair of shoes just because they didn’t fit!” she exclaimed, then we sat gawping at each other while silent mutual incomprehension calcified the air.
I had thought men’s relationship with footwear was more simple. Yes, some men collect trainers the way I collect music and others collect stamps, but we really don’t care that much what women wear on their feet, do we? Or so I thought until this month, when academia came along to shatter my complacency. It turns out that the typical man does indeed care about women’s shoes and, surprise, surprise, it is high heels that press his buttons.
A study in the new issue of the Archives of Sexual Behaviour reveals that a woman who stands in the street and asks passing men for help in filling out a survey, or who “accidentally” drops a glove will get more positive responses if she is wearing heels than flats. She’ll also attract more attention when sitting in a bar. The author Nicolas Guéguen said that a woman’s heel size “exerts a powerful effect on men’s behaviour”. He was unsure why this should be happening, but suggested that the over-association of high heels with women’s sexiness and could lead men to misinterpret the sexual intent of women with high heels.
It is hard to argue with this. Even the most committed evolutionary psychologist would struggle to claim that our ancestors on the savanna enjoyed an evolutionary advantage if they propped up their arches on a couple of twigs while sabre-toothed tigers were on the prowl. As tactical mating strategies go, that one would be pretty stupid.
Further light is shone on the issue by the latest edition of Podiatry Now (I have the best bedtime reading). Given the damage that can be done to women’s feet by high-heeled shoes, podiatrists have an obvious interest in this matter.
Into the fray steps Dr Chris Morriss-Roberts, Britain’s leading expert in podolinguistics (quite possibly Britain’s only expert in podolinguistics, but credit where it’s due). He heard of a case of a 90-year-old woman with extensive feet problems caused by her footwear, who admitted that she wore high heels to look attractive to her husband. When asked, he admitted that he’d always hated the bloody things. I paraphrase, but not much. This set Morriss-Roberts off on a quest to find out what heterosexual men really think about women’s shoes. I read the paper eagerly anticipating the twist – surely it would transpire that after all these years of bunions and claw-toe, men really don’t care what women have on their feet?
It turned out that few men agree with the elderly husband (and me) and most are helpless suckers for a high heel and a strap. They reported being excited by the assertive brand of femininity they imply. As one research participant put it: “I sense authority behind that … what’s going on for me with high heels is a sense of politics, behind that there is an element of vulnerability, and a sense that the foot is being controlled by the shoe.”
Let us not forget that a stiletto is a weapon designed to slide through the ribs and stab the heart.
For what it is worth (ie nothing), personally I’m more attracted to a woman who looks like she can drink me under the table then carry me home, making a sturdy pair of DMs just the ticket. I live in hope that one day the human race will view high heels with the same horror with which we view foot-binding. Women would be spared innumerable podiatric agonies and men would, I think, just about cope. Until then I shall content myself with the knowledge that I’m right and the rest of the human race is a bit daft. And these supermarket pumps? They’re actually very comfortable you know.
