Schönheit muß leiden
Ever since I started picking up German about four years ago, I've always thought that language's version of our "No pain, no gain" expression is more accurate. "Schönheit muß leiden" literally means "Beauty must suffer." Not that I agree with this particular idea -- but it appears that a lot of women in New York do.
Friends have often thought it a bit weird that I mutter under my breath every time I see a woman coming down the street tottering on three-inch stilettos. The more I ran last year, though, the more I became attuned to the damage people do their feet by wearing the wrong shoes -- and it's clear that if you can't balance on a pair of shoes, you probably shouldn't be ruining your Achilles tendons trying.
Lacerating your feet is in the same ballpark, though one probably does less long-term damage to one's feet just by wearing shoes that have straps "like little knives."
Ouch! And I complain because I got a blister on the side of my ankle from wearing low-cut tennis shoes to a hip-hop class Wednesday, and more on the balls of my feet from doing barefoot salsa on a carpeted floor at a party last night. Apparently, real women's pedal pain is always sartorial.
Finally, adding insult to injury, is the amount people pay for these instruments of torture:
The conclusion? Clearly, the women of New York are all self-hating, masochistic Imelda Marcoses.
Friends have often thought it a bit weird that I mutter under my breath every time I see a woman coming down the street tottering on three-inch stilettos. The more I ran last year, though, the more I became attuned to the damage people do their feet by wearing the wrong shoes -- and it's clear that if you can't balance on a pair of shoes, you probably shouldn't be ruining your Achilles tendons trying.
Lacerating your feet is in the same ballpark, though one probably does less long-term damage to one's feet just by wearing shoes that have straps "like little knives."
"In the past four days we've been treating mobs of people, most of whom are exiting the winter without having done anything to get their feet ready for spring," said Anika Haynes, the spa coordinator for the Aqua Beauty Bar in downtown Manhattan.
"All the women who come here," Ms. Haynes said, "need emergency rescue. They're swollen, they're callused, and they're pleading, 'Can you buff, buff, buff?' "
Ouch! And I complain because I got a blister on the side of my ankle from wearing low-cut tennis shoes to a hip-hop class Wednesday, and more on the balls of my feet from doing barefoot salsa on a carpeted floor at a party last night. Apparently, real women's pedal pain is always sartorial.
Finally, adding insult to injury, is the amount people pay for these instruments of torture:
Ms. Gajzer faults the shoemaker, not the wearer. "When you're paying between $300 and $600 for a pair of sandals, you expect them to be remotely comfortable," she said. "Otherwise the designer should be smacked."
Ms. Korb, for her part, is resigned to her fate. "It's crazy, I know," she said with a mixture of pride and chagrin. "I just bought these shoes for $600. They're Valentino. They hurt, but I love them so much I even had a pedicure - another $50 - just so I could wear them."
The conclusion? Clearly, the women of New York are all self-hating, masochistic Imelda Marcoses.
posted by nori | 13:58
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home