I bought a pair of black four-inchers from The Villager on Portage Avenue and wore them about three times.
Once to the Copa, where they earned me both my first and my last invitation to dance with Glen Anderson (sorry Glen; I hope it didn't take too long for your instep to heal).
Once to school, where I slipped them off to relieve the pain and swelling from the kilometre-long walk from Hazel Dell Avenue, only to see Jim Gowriluk blanch and his head swivel as if he'd been slapped (sorry for the assault on your olfactories, Jim).
Once to the hospital (the hospital?), where I narrowly avoided getting myself admitted as a fashion victim when I misjudged the step off the curb on Taché Avenue and went wildly fluttering and teeter-tottering out into the path of oncoming traffic. (I think my dad saved me; thanks Dad).
After that last humiliation, the platforms were worn only for practice driving, to enable me to reach the gas and the brake pedals without slipping below the windshield. (Mr. Starr insisted.) As Bev Westcott will attest, they did not make me any better a driver than they did a dancer; I failed my first test and it was at least ten years before I took another.
Forced by my utter lack of elegance to accept a lifetime of navel-gazing, I committed to the wearing of sensible shoes. I will however admit to hoarding a gorgeous pair of Perry Ellis heels that one of my other personalities purchased and I occasionally take out of the closet, dust off, and admire.
- Not Michael
For some examples of platform footwear even more extreme than our own, check out the "On a Pedestal" exhibition at the Bata Shoe Museum:
http://www.batashoemuseum.ca/index.htmlweeblylink_new_window
As for 70's fashion, here's something that might jog your memory:
http://www.fashion-era.com/1960-1980.htmweeblylink_new_window