Killer Heels

Even though I have many things in common with Carrie Bradshaw (oh please, don’t pretend you never indulged yourself in an episode of Sex and the City), there is one thing we do not share; the love of high-heeled shoes. As a teen I was of the grunge music inclination, or at least my own interpretation of it (I can’t claim to have pulled it off all that well). This meant converse, vans and all american style sneakers. Somehow the comfortable shoe era never left me and it threatens to continue right into the inevitable orthopaedic grandma end-of-life stage. I’ve always seen heels almost as a kind of threat. Have you ever noticed when you are on the street and someone’s heels are click clacking behind you, you suddenly feel transported into a B-movie detective mystery where you are the one being followed into a dark alley to eventually be brutally and bloodily murdered with a pointy kitchen knife? No, just me then? Sometimes the shoes are so loud there is an echo and it is impossible to tell how close the person is to you, if they are right behind trying to pass or far away enough to throw a stick at.

A whole manner and culture has grown up around the ‘sexiness’ of wearing the shoe, it makes you taller, slimmer, makes your butt stick out in the right way but, try to run from a rapist or just for bus, the whole thing becomes entirely absurd. If wearing the spiky talons on the end of your legs make you feel empowered, you must of course to continue to do so. I see attraction, I really do, and we must never forget that Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did but backwards and in high heels. Permit yourself to wear whatever you wish to wear but preferably not behind me on a quiet street.


The fatal flower is the perverted shy girl, the one you wouldn’t suspect. Under a soft exterior lies a complex being with an unyielding wildness, anchored to the earth by her humble nature and inexplicable dry humour. She is the femme of now, the modern woman who’s thoughts transcend through cultures and time.

Over the coming months let ‘La Fleur Fatale’ be your guide to the hidden insights and stories of a watchful woman’s eye navigating through the ‘European’ way of life. Struggles and mishaps ensue as life is embraced and the thorny introvert femme clammers for life’s answers. All possible subjects are covered from death to Kim Kardashian and from sisterhood to the perfect strawberry frappe.

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