War on terra: why does the female foot maintain its battle-zone status?
First, congratulations to Nicola Thorp for her stance in wearing flat heels to work. Over the years, I have waxed much lyrical on the eternal tussle between fantasy and reality that is the female foot zone. With the coming of age of Birkenstock and Fit-flops, Ecco and Josef Siebel, I thought that comfort and rationality had finally triumphed. But in the past decade, the fictional Miranda Priestly waved a pair of stilettos under the nose of sensibly-dressed secretary Andie in The Devil Wears Prada (David Frankel, 2006) while only last year, actual movie stars stood firmly in jewelled flatties on the red carpet in Cannes, deaf to howls of media derision. This year, the spat between receptionist Nicola and her bosses has proved that this sartorial war on terra is alive and kicking. When will men/bosses/people in authority generally learn that high-heeled feminine shoes are not workaday items of dress? Stiletto heels do not lend themselves to eight-hour work shifts, book-ended by fraught, commuter commutes. They are for parties, first dates and award ceremonies – a trope that even the canny ladies of Cannes eschewed. Stiletto shoes fulfill a yearning, a daydream, an aspiration, being the sartorial equivalent of gothic vaults, gleaming skyscrapers and a soaring FTSE index.
That is the fantasy; the reality is aching toes and ankles during active hours, with the long-term price of trudging into middle and old age with damaged knees and spinal cords, and corned, calloused and bunioned feet. Ladies, refuse to pay – today.
The idea for a book combining colour theory and Greek mythology, which has always held my fascination, occurred to me just over two years ago.I have now launched Mythical Colouring. The majority of colouring books provide colour enthusiasts with patterns for essays into pure colour. However, even imagination requires a helping hand when matching and contrasting shades. The introductory notes and the guidelines that accompany every story serve as a springboard for the aspiring colourist.
Each story consists of two images, an A4-sized image and a smaller – though enlarged - detail from that image. Many enthusiasts may prefer to experiment on this detail before moving on to the full-sized picture. I have also provided blank squares at the outset of the book for pure colour experimentation.
Beginning with the story of a prehistoric deluge, the reader is taken through a montage of scenes from the lexicon of Greek mythology that include the pastoral worlds of Hyperion and Endymion, to the subterranean realm of Medea and the adventures of Hercules. In the accompanying guidelines, I explain how to attain the requisite atmosphere through the use of colour, and reminding the enthusiast that he or she is free to experiment.