I am frequently asked if I would date a guy shorter than me: by strangers, friends, and even guys I’m actively on dates with. I often wonder what is really behind that question. Are these men intimidated by my height? Threatened? Jealous? Emasculated? And when women ask me, is it with malicious intent or misplaced concern? It starts to feel like they’re implying my height is a difficulty that makes me less desirable. Wearing heels would be the equivalent of shooting myself in the foot when it comes to dating prospects, as if there’s no man who could handle it.
Of course I can zoom out and see that in the grand scheme of, well, just about everything, this is inconsequential. Height is respected in the industry I work in, I’ve had no trouble dating, and there’s a whole host of people in my life who want me to wear heels. But then I think back to when I walked into the hotel room of the 6”2” queen Karlie Kloss, when I directed a video with her. She exclaimed, “Ah, fellow tall girl!” and gave me a hug. If a professional model thinks about her height enough to notice mine, maybe I’m not crazy for obsessing.
I was cleaning out my mom’s closet with her recently, when I spotted a pair of oxblood red Prada heels from the discard pile. Instantly, I envisioned an outfit for them; I’d wear them with a pair of oversized jeans that had felt too schlumpfy on their own for our dressy office. Along with a floral Versace shirt, the outfit finally worked. Of course the missing element was a heel.
I wore the outfit, heels and all, with some trepidation the next day. I don’t think I’d ever worn a heel to the office. In fact, I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve worn them at all. You know that feeling when you get a haircut and wonder if everyone’s just going to shout “you got a haircut!” all day? It felt like that. Instead, my boss understood what I was going for: “Power pumps! Chic.” We went on with our day.
If heels were…
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