As a confirmed flats wearer (and shaky on anything above and beyond a kitten heel) I find something noble, dare I say heroic, in the fact that Daphne Guinness would risk an entire evening enjoying the dubious delights of Alexander McQueen’s twelve inch crab claws (otherwise known as the armadillos, goat’s feet, or those shoes from McQueen’s Spring/Summer 2010 collection).
Yet photographic evidence exists that at Francois Nars’ 15th anniversary party she, and the shoes, appeared on the red carpet – and presumably navigated their way around the cocktails and canapés inside.
It’s not often that envy and horror vie for my attention, and yet, in this instance, they battled it out amongst the debris of my subconscious. The thought that anyone could stand, yet alone walk, in the claws evoked the former emotion, while a mixture of curiosity and empathy over the pain she must have been feeling stirred up the latter.
We all understand the urge to wear the latest and greatest pieces we possess, an emotion that must be multiplied for a couture collector like Guinness. But surely, in some cases, designers’ work should be regarded as art and admired from afar rather than teetered on in public.