My Unrequited Love

As the saying goes, you always want what you can't have.  Now, for most people this may be something they can't afford, something they don't have room for in their life or something forbidden to them but my unrequited love is affordable, compact and universally idolised.

Heels.  A chic pair from Zara, some quirky and cool platforms from Topshop or the heart-stopping Charlotte Olympia range (Dolly, shown above, £575). And yet why can I not indulge? At 20 years old, I stand at a vertigo-inducing 6 feet tall.

Although many of my more vertically challenged friends claim to hanker for a couple more inches, I cannot stress enough to them the trials of being tall. From standing out a head above your classmates in assembly, to your choice of men being seriously reduced (especially when with shortness seems to come a charming cheekiness) it really can be a hindrance.

Since going out clubbing on an evening has become a bi-weekly habit at Uni, my pain has only worsened.  I watch friends slipping on a pair of sexy heels and stepping out in gorgeous, feminine confidence while I go barefoot during pre-drinks before I cram my feet in a dull pair of flats and shuffle out of the door.

People suggest a mid-heel but who wants shoes that signal the wearer is nothing more than safe and sensible? I want eight inch, stiletto platforms, I want the real deal, and I want it without repeatedly bashing my head against the ceiling of the club (true story).

So, any lucky readers who stand at a height suitable for vertiginous heels, thank the Sex-Kitten Gods for blessing you with smaller proportions and understand when your tall friends weep in the shoe lounge of your nearest Topshop or browse Louboutin alone with a tub of Ben and Jerry's at night. We are the walking wounded (in flats), girls with our hearts constantly broken, cursed with a problem that simply cannot be solved.

Your friendly neighbourhood giant,
Sophie