…That is the question

This, of course, is every woman’s greatest dilemma. The problem, as we all know, goes like this: wear heels, look great and suffer– or wear flats, be comfy, compromise on style.


Having arrived in Durham four weeks ago with nine pairs of heels and one pair of flats, I had pretty much already made my choice. I did have a vague recollection of someone mentioning ‘hills’ but my inner fashionista had blithely glossed over this during the packing process (this same fashionista, being from the south, didn’t realise ‘cold’ meant more than some light knitwear). Little did I know the landscape of our beautiful city makes wearing heels more like navigating an assault course. Add alcohol into the mix and a night out on the town becomes more of an exercise in staying upright.

We’re dealing with two main heel-hazards: cobbles and hills. The problem with cobbles is a clash of aesthetics – in the same way heels are impractical but look good, cobbles are really a ridiculous way to surface a road but look pretty. The combination of the two though is frankly dangerous: small, uneven and slippery, it’s impossible to keep a good footing and then you have the whole heel-stuck-in-crack nightmare. Bailey bar crawls are particularly treacherous. On the grounds of health and safety I may start a campaign to have all cobbled streets of Durham tarmac-ed over.

You can do it put your back into it
If you’ve survived the cobbled streets and haven’t broken your ankle yet then the lack of flat surfaces in Durham will probably catch you out. The trick, when going downhill, is to take very small steps. Unfortunately certain inclines are so steep you end up with a sort of shuffle, which somewhat negates the glamorous look you’re going for.

Sometimes it’s not topography but sheer distance. Those of you also from hill colleges will feel my pain, literally, if you have strutted the whole way into town in your heels, spent four hours dancing and then had to make the trek back up because you can’t get a taxi. This is another thing, surely we can work out some sort of priority system with taxis, based on how high your heels are/how much your feet are bleeding?

No Pain No Gain
It seems the case for flats is overwhelming and I have to admit, despite my best efforts I have been reduced to wearing my one and only pair of flats everywhere, which are now disintegrating. The dilemma is most definitely a night time issue – boots, Uggs, flats, are all fine for the day; only the bravest and most dedicated Durham fashionistas will strut to their lectures in heels. But I can’t contemplate never going out in heels again. It’s too sad. Heels can be so many things – sexy, glamorous, confidence-boosting – but flats are just, well, flat. The fact is you just don’t look as good in flats as you do in heels, especially when you need them for valuable extra inches like me.


So, what to do?

There never is an easy solution to the heels, no heels debate – it’s somewhat similar to the problematic coat/no coat decision: what is more inconvenient, having to find somewhere to hide it in Loveshack because you don’t want to pay a whole pound for the cloakroom, or getting hypothermia? However, after considerable thought, I think the solution lies in pain management. Every high-heeled trip should be made with a survival kit i.e. several plasters, some of those squidgy gel cushion things (don’t put these on straight away, save them until you’re feet are really burning, then you actually feel the benefit) and a list of every taxi number in Durham, this will at least give you a tiny chance of being able to get one. In terms of staying vertical, I’ve found an escort, as in someone to casually link arms with and hold onto is handy. This can be a friend, preferably not also wearing heels, or even a nice man if you’re lucky. Of course, there are times when heels are a complete no-no. When the weather starts getting icy and/or snowy, forget it. Plaster casts are not stylish.

Until then, I will be making the most of the frost free weather and stepping out in my heels again. As a friend pointed out, when the pain becomes eye-watering and you’re facing yet another cobbled hill, you can always take the damn things off and with true class, walk home bare foot.