Teetering

I was barely twenty when I visited several shoe shops in Sydney's CBD. I was a little nervous. My goal was unusual, and had been shared with no-one. This was at a time when Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras was transforming from protest movement to being a community street party with the throttle wide open.

As personal journeys go, it was short. Within a few hours I had established there was no way to reach my destination. None of the stores had high heels that would fit, their range stopping two sizes below what my foot required.

I was despondent, but perhaps it was for the best. Already a hundred and eighty centimetres tall and not the most co-ordinated youth, in stilettos I would have looked ridiculous.