Marilyn Monroe famously had half an inch chopped off one of hers to enhance the wiggle in her walk, while supermodel Veronica Webb claims they "put your ass on a pedestal, where it belongs". I'm talking, of course, about high heels. Those towers of female footwear that combine a plethora of complex contradictions: empowerment, vulnerability, sexual allure, femininity, subversion, fetishism.
Whatever they mean to you, it seems one thing is consistent: British women can't get enough of them. A study has revealed that we teeter around in the highest heels of all our European counterparts, on average elevating our feet by 8.25cm. In fact, a quarter of British women regularly brave stilettos that perch precariously between 10 and 15cm, inspired by the likes of Victoria Beckham, Cheryl Cole, Elle Macpherson and Kelly Brook, all of whom are devotees of such skyscraping styles.
The Duchess of Cambridge, whose dedication to her LK Bennett "Sledge" 11cm heels has been much commented on, has done wonders for the popularity of the leg-lengthening powers of the "nude" platformed stiletto. The £195 style, from the brand's Signature Collection, has sold out numerous times, and the company is currently stocking the flattering, classic court in a revenue-generating 12 colours to meet consumer demand for a new take on Kate Middleton's style.
So what exactly is the appeal of the high heel? Is it an empowering accessory, a weapon in the arsenal of post-feminist women's sartorial power? Or is it a subversive relic from a male-dominated world, designed to cripple vulnerable women in their quest to meet a fashionable and social ideal?
Former Clothes Show presenter Vanessa Scott runs a successful video production company within the fashion and luxury goods industry and – even at a statuesque 5ft 10in – knows all too well the power of a heel. "I'm very much part of the Sex and the City generation and, for me, high heels will always be synonymous with Carrie Bradshaw. Her obsession with shoes was symbolic of a woman's sexual and financial freedom today. What woman doesn't adore high heels? They provide the illusion of instant liposuction and are Viagra for the soul. Quite simply, you look sexier and feel sexier – what man could resist?"
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A study earlier this year in the Journal of Applied Physiology revealed that women who habitually wear high heels are at a heightened risk of permanent damage to their knees, hips, back and tendons, because the shoe shape forces the wearer to place all of her body weight on the ball of the foot, compromising stability. This, in turn, makes her compensate for the instability by pushing her knees and hips forward and arching her back.
Despite the discomfort and the potential damage associated with heels, the psychologist Bernard Rudofsky, author of The Unfashionable Human Body, says: "Physical distress is accepted by women if it is a constitutional part of the pleasure of courtship and mating. Women will furiously defend their high heels because any distress to their feet is in itself a form of attraction for men, many of whom feel it is a sacrifice made for them."
Camilla Morton believes the appeal of the heel is more deeply ingrained in women's psyche. The fashion writer and author of How to Walk in High Heels is a disciple of the Manolo Blahnik heel and describes her passion thus: "As a nation, our children are brought up reading fairy stories, and we associate heels with transformation. It's about the glass slipper that Cinderella slips on before being whisked off to the ball. We don't swan around in crinolined ball gowns and horse-drawn coaches, but we can wear the heels with the magical aura. Without a doubt, putting on a pair of heels is totally transformative: they make you feel something special is going to happen. As young girls, many of us looked up to our mothers wearing high heels and they symbolised everything that was womanly in the world. Barbie, with her pink stilettos and feet permanently moulded to wear heels, was everything a grown-up was meant to be: forget the boobs, the heels turn you into a woman."
I, certainly, am not immune to the aggrandising nature of these soaring shoes. While I now spend much of my life as the mother of a four-year-old running around in trainers, brogues or ballet pumps, I have over the last two decades accrued a collection of heels that would not be out of place in a costume archive.
There are beribboned Pradas with spindle-like stilettos wrapped in velvet the colour of Parma Violets. For more vampish occasions, I wear patent red Mary Janes with high-rise heels and matching soles by the cobbler du jour, Christian Louboutin.
I have more silk courts by Anya Hindmarch and teetering rose pink satin Jimmy Choo mules scattered with a sprinkling of beads. Row upon row of stacked boxes bear the names of Rupert Sanderson, Marni, Dolce & Gabbana, Gina, Christian Dior, Topshop, Emma Hope, Paul Smith, Moschino and Ralph Lauren.
Many are the remnants of a more glamorous pre-parenting life, attending fashion industry parties and reporting from the red carpet. They have little relevance in my current incarnation, juggling my daughter's ballet lessons and playdates with my home-based, slipper-clad work as a freelance writer, but I unwrap a pair of heels at every opportunity. This weekend, I briefly discarded my "mum-shoes" for a sexy pair of killer heels and was instantly shifted into party mode for a friend's 40th birthday.
For my first wedding, in 1993, Mr Choo himself measured my feet and handmade a pair of couture Duchess satin heels to match my gown. The magic of those shoes lasted longer than the marriage, and when I wed my second husband last year I wore a wonderful pair of silver, strappy glittered heels by Martine Sitbon – the perfect platform for a diminutive 5ft 2in bride to kiss her 6ft 4in husband.
As someone who is below average in terms of my physical stature – British women are now among the shortest in Europe, with the average 18- to 29-year-old measuring in at 5ft 4in (163cm) – I relish the leg-lengthening opportunity to slip my size 4s into the shoemakers' equivalent of the Shard.
A pair of heels allows me to view the world from a different vantage point. I can look people in the eye, so those who previously looked down their nose at me must view me on their level – a psychological benefit that comes into play socially and in the workplace.
Zoe Mayson, a business psychologist, suggests that I am not alone in valuing the heel as a professional asset. "There are a lot of people who think women do themselves a disservice by wearing heels, but I'm not in that camp. They are a psychological asset, and we can use them to our advantage. I work a lot with men in suits around a boardroom table, and I would never lead a session in flats. Heels give me gravitas that I would not have in lower shoes.
"From an evolutionary point of view, natural selection favours traits that increase our individual reproductive success. Heels get you noticed and give you physical stature, which in turn, gives you power, without compromising your femininity. So often, women have to take on male attributes to be successful in the workplace, and this is a great way of digging our heels in and saying no."
Just look at the self-confessed glamour-geek Marissa Mayer, the newly-appointed president and CEO of Yahoo! in her sassy stilettos and you can see that heels and brains are a potent combination in even the most male-dominated of industries.
Historically, heels have been used as a form of marking power: some 10,000 years ago, tribal chieftains were known to wear stilts at meetings to allow them to look down on the members of their tribe. And, in the 16th century, when European aristocrats adopted the heels favoured by Catherine de Medici, they were outraged when commoners began to wear them too. A law was passed prohibiting anyone below the "rank" of gentry from wearing heels – hence, the expression "well-heeled".
Even in colonial America, under British rule, a similar law existed: "Citizens of common class … are prohibited from wearing boots or shoes of satin cloth or ribbons, or of bright colours, or shoes with stilted heels. All such footwear is a mark of rank and privilege. Those of lesser class who attempt to emulate those of stations above by their attire will be considered in violation of His Majesty's laws and subject to fine or jail or both."
Jump to the 1950s and the popularity of the newly created stiletto heel reached pandemic proportions. Inspired by the creations of Salvatore Ferragamo and Roger Vivier – known as the Fabergé of footwear, women complemented the full-skirted hourglass silhouette of their "New Look" postwar fashion with a seductive stiletto heel, echoing the glamour of Hollywood icons such as Marilyn Monroe and Sophia Loren.
Not until the 1980s were heels the height of fashion, with the advent of Dynasty-style power dressing as women climbed the career ladder, and the infamous white stiletto worn by everyone from Diana, Princess of Wales, to the stereotypical Essex girl, dancing around her handbag to Bananarama – in 1987, the high street chain Dolcis sold over a quarter of a million pairs of the much derided style.
Today, thanks to Carrie Bradshaw, Jimmy Choo and Manolo Blahnik are household names, and £25k-a-year office juniors aspire to own designer heels that cost more than their monthly rent. In an age where princesses wear high street heels to meet the US president, there's plenty of mileage left in the high heel yet.
As the footwear historian William A Rossi points out, "most women prefer a trip to hell in high heels than to walk flat-heeled to heaven".
