Heels were worn, by one generation of office workers, almost every day. Heels are, by the next generation, worn, on average, four times a year. The shift took place, by most accounts, between 2019 and 2023. The shift was, in part, a consequence of the pandemic. The shift was, in part, a consequence of comfort becoming, in workplace attire, a category of its own.
A pair of black heels was bought, by a woman in 2014, for a work event she no longer remembers. The heels were tried on, four years later, in a hotel room, in advance of a wedding. The heels did not, in 2018, allow the wearer to walk across the room.
The heels were given, the next morning, to the hotel concierge. The concierge took the heels with the polite, puzzled expression that concierge staff develop, by most accounts, over the course of a career.
A short history
Heels were introduced, in their modern form, in the late 1500s, in Persia. The original heel was a stable wear — a way to keep the foot in the stirrup, on horseback. The heel migrated, over the next three centuries, into European fashion, by way of the courts of France and Spain. The heel became, by the eighteenth century, a marker of aristocratic masculinity. The heel was worn, by Louis XIV, with red soles.
The heel shifted, over the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, into women's fashion. The heel became, by the 1950s, a near-universal feature of women's workplace attire in North America and Europe. The heel was, by the 1980s, a near-universal feature of women's formal wear.
The heel began, by some accounts in the early 2010s, to decline. The decline was, in part, driven by the rise of the sneaker, in workplace contexts. The decline was, in part, driven by the rise of the flat boot, in workplace contexts. The decline was, in part, driven by a broader rejection, among younger workers, of the discomfort associated with the heel.
Why the heel declined
The heel declined, by most accounts, for reasons that are, on the surface, practical. The heel is associated, by medical literature, with a number of foot conditions — plantar fasciitis, bunions, hammer toe. The heel is associated, by the same literature, with lower back pain. The heel is associated, by the same literature, with knee osteoarthritis.
The heel declined, by other accounts, for reasons that are, on the surface, cultural. The heel is associated, by some commentators, with a particular kind of workplace femininity — poised, contained, severe. The heel is associated, by the same commentators, with a workplace culture that required women, in order to be taken seriously, to wear, in addition to their other qualifications, a piece of equipment.
The heel declined, in other words, for the same reason that many pieces of workplace equipment declined. The heel was, by the wearer, no longer required.
The last time
The heels were black. The heels were owned, by the wearer, since 2014. The heels were bought for an event the wearer no longer remembers, at a store the wearer no longer visits.
The heels were put on, in a hotel room, in advance of a wedding. The heels were walked in, briefly, in front of the bathroom mirror. The heels were walked in, briefly, in front of the bed. The heels did not allow the wearer to walk across the room.
The heels were taken off. The heels were replaced, by the wearer, with a pair of ballet flats, in navy. The flats had been bought, the year before, for a different occasion. The flats were, by the wearer's description, the most comfortable shoes the wearer had ever worn to a wedding.
The heels were put, the next morning, into a small bag, and given to the concierge.
What the heel is
The heel is, by most measurements, a piece of footwear. The heel is, by most measurements, a small platform, attached to the back of a shoe, that elevates the wearer by between one and four inches.
The heel is, by other measurements, a piece of social equipment. The heel is, by other measurements, a piece of equipment that has, over the past four centuries, signaled different things to different people. The heel signaled, in the seventeenth century, masculinity. The heel signaled, in the eighteenth century, aristocratic leisure. The heel signaled, in the twentieth century, workplace competence. The heel signals, in the twenty-first century, by most accounts, increasingly little.
The heel is, by still other measurements, a piece of equipment the wearer has, in the last four years, stopped using.
What was missed
Little, by the wearer's account, was missed.
A small sound was missed. The sound is the sound a hard heel makes on a hard floor, in a quiet room, when the room is mostly empty and the person wearing the heels is the only person in it. The sound has, by the wearer's description, a confidence to it that has not been replicated, in any other footwear, in any other context.
A small line was missed. The heel, even at a small height, changes the line of a leg. The line is, by the wearer's description, a particular kind of line — a line that announces. The line has, in the years the wearer has stopped wearing heels, been replaced, on most days, by the line of trousers and sneakers. The line has not, on most days, been missed.
The pain was not missed. By the wearer.
What the wearer wears now
The wearer wears, on most days, flat shoes. The wearer wears, on most days, sneakers to the office. The wearer wears, on most days, a pair of black ankle boots, with a small block heel, that the wearer bought in 2022, and that the wearer has, by the wearer's description, described as one of the better purchases of the past decade.
The wearer wears, on formal occasions, the ballet flats. The wearer wears, on formal occasions, a navy dress the wearer bought two years ago and has worn exactly once. The wearer wears, on formal occasions, a small pair of pearl earrings the wearer has, by the wearer's description, borrowed, again, from the wearer's mother.
The wearer danced, briefly, at the wedding. The flat boots were, by the wearer's description, good for dancing.
The box
A box sits, in the back of a closet, where the heels used to live. The box contains three pairs of heels not worn in four years. The box contains two pairs of heels not worn in eight. The box contains a single pair of wedding shoes — silver, with a tiny bow — worn at the wearer's own wedding, and not touched since.
The box will, at some point, be given to a woman who wears heels, who loves them, who has, by the wearer's description, the right kind of feet for them.
The box is, for the moment, in the closet. The box is closed. The heels, inside the box, are quiet.