I don't wear heels. Like, ever. I used to, mainly because Cosmopolitan had convinced post-collegiate me that being professional meant towering & teetering - that I would somehow be taken less seriously in the office if I were wearing shoes I could walk in.
My favorite pair of heels, though, comes from Nine West. I like them so much, in fact, that in my heel heyday, I went through a whopping four pairs of them. When I moved out of my mom's house last month, though, I decided I certainly didn't need the two pairs I was still hanging on to - but that I should probably hang onto one, in case I ever wanted to practice twisting an ankle a la Amanda Seyfried on the Vanity Fair red carpet.
Wanting to ensure that I took only the highest quality footwear with me to New Hampshire (snort), I took the most in-tact shoe from each of the two remaining pairs, forming a sort of heel supergroup of sorts, & tossing their shabbier mates into the Goodwill bag.
You know where this is going, don't you?