This beauty blogging business isn’t all glamour ‘n’ lipsticks, y’know. Since party season is just around the corner I’ve been busy test driving some shoe and sandal solutions that promise to take the pain out of standing/dancing/photocopying your arse for hours on end in high heels.
I have a bit of a devotion to Compeed blister plasters – well, provided I don’t get creative with their use – so I picked up a packet of their Style SOS Heel Cushions when they were on 3 for 2 offer in Boots recently. Where Scholl’s Party Feet are designed to be placed under the balls of your feet, these lads are intended to relieve the pain that high heels can cause under your, er, heels. They’re pads of silicone with little holes in them to allow feet to breathe, so in theory should feel less sweaty underfoot than other foot-y products.
On a night out in Kilkenny, I popped them in my finest (i.e. most hideously uncomfortable) car-to-bar shoes to see if they could alleviate the near crippling stabbing soreness in my heels that this particular pair of stupidly high strappy sandals never fail to cause. They were fantastically comfortable and I was well pleased about how discreet they were – basically invisible – until they started to wander out the back and sides of the sandals.
Cue me desperately trying to ease them back in to my shoes every couple of minutes before anyone noticed my cringey recurring wardrobe malfunction.
I didn’t have to keep that up for long, though, because next thing my Heel Cushions had gone AWOL completely. And despite the returning pain in my heels and the mortification of having left little silicone pads behind me somewhere, I was kind of glad to be rid of the flippin’ things.
It was just an awful pity they weren’t sticky on one side, I said sadly to Himself afterwards.
The following day, when I was chucking out the packaging they’d come in, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the papery inserts that had separated the cushions appeared to have the outline of something subtly traced on them. I was baffled to discover that they were, in fact, adhesive stickers. I read and re-read the instructions of use, but there was no mention of stickers.
Then I noticed some small print – which I had assumed said something about the ingredients or the manufacturer’s contact details or who the distributor was or the like, so teeny tiny was its size – was full of blurb about these stupid nearly invisible stickers and how they should be stuck into the shoes before the cushions to keep them in place.
For FECK’S sake!