Red Shoes
An exploration of the colour red as power and shame
I used to have a pair of red shoes like these, except mine were shiny patent leather. I’ve been a stiletto shoes woman most of my life, in an array of colours, and only stopped wearing them during 2013 when I developed plantar fasciitis. That was the year I fell apart, symbolically I was stuck and had lost direction, metaphorically and physically I lost my footing and couldn’t move forward. I spent many months flat on my back due to bone weary exhaustion, total and utter burnout, severe depression and deep, deep grief for my abandoned self of many years.
I was reminded of my red shoes this weekend thanks to reading a chapter in ‘Women Who Run With The Wolves’ by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Earlier this year I joined a slow reading group of this iconic text, hosted by a Jungian analyst. I have bought this book twice before and it never resonated so gave both copies away to charity shops. There are similar accounts from the other reading group members who have copies that are fifteen years old. The book came back into my life during 2014 when I took an art therapy class at Roehampton University. The tutor read us the story of the Selkie following which we drew an image conjured by the myth. Here’s mine:
Then the book ‘If Women Rose Rooted’ by Sharon Blackie came to me during 2017 and I much preferred her telling of the Selkie myth, I still do. As an aside, would anyone be interested in joining me for a reading group of this book?
Women Who Run With the Wolves felt like a book I ought to read, so I tried again and once again, I gave up on it. This third time feels different. Perhaps it’s the power of being with a group and a guide, perhaps it’s my own entry into a more soulful stage in my life. Perhaps it’s the perspective of age and the increased ability to look back over my life and see the patterns more clearly?
The tale of the Selkie immediately follows the Red Shoes chapter yet this time it’s this other story that resonates most with me. It’s not a story I remember from childhood. Like many Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales, who updated the original version, it’s pretty gruesome. The Red Shoes tells of a poor girl who makes her own red shoes from scraps of leather. When taken in by an old woman (who represents rigid societal expectations) her hand made shoes are burned. Later, the girl sneaks another pair of red shoes into her life. These shoes are enchanted and eventually possess her, forcing her into an uncontrollable never ending dance that becomes unbearable. Seeking relief she asks an axe man to cut off her feet.
Estes sets out the various traps of compulsive behaviour that lead us to disconnection and loss of self. I won’t go into these, other than to say I recognised many of them. What did come to me was a long forgotten memory of buying a pair of red tights. I was maybe 14 or 15 and I think they were branded Mary Quant, which went with my haircut of that time. I was entranced by the array of coloured tights, so different to the ubiquitous ‘American Tan’ that was permitted by school. I loved the red and metaphorically pirouetted wearing them, until my mum caught sight of me and she spat:
“you can take those off, you look like a whore!”
I can still feel the shock of her words. I was a whore. My own mother said so. Not for the first time when caught by her ire, I was left speechless.
I can’t remember when I began buying red shoes, dresses, tops, jackets. I don’t have a wardrobe full of red, far from it, and have to be in the right mood to wear it. I have to feel confident, especially to wear red lipstick (the colour of the harlot - I don’t know where that thought comes from, possibly another injunction from my mother?) Nowadays I’d love to wear red lipstick more often but I my skin is aging and I get ‘feathering’ around my lips, even using a lip pencil, and I look like I’ve stuck my jaw in the jam jar, definitely not Chanel.
In our reading group we had a discussion about the colour red and what it evokes in us. Have a think about it and what you associate with red. For me, it is a high energy colour, hence needing to be in the right mood to wear it because my inner energy needs to be in synch with the energy of the colour.
In society we use red Stop signals to warn of danger. Is red a dangerous colour? We use it for red roses on Valentine’s Day to symbolise true love and we have the red boudoir to denote lust and passion. Perhaps this was behind my mum’s association with the whore, to be a Jezebel?
Many, many years later, in my 50s, I remember wearing my red stiletto shoes to work. One day, as an HR Director, I was facilitating a workshop. During the break, in the ladies loos, a junior work colleague walked by me saying, “I love your “fuck me” shoes”. Once again I was shocked. I expressed thanks for what I took to be intended as a compliment yet left troubled by what might be hidden in the message, asking myself whether I was unconsciously signalling sex? Interestingly, men have never commented on my footwear, only women. What is it about red and sexuality? What is it about footwear and sex?
Red is also the colour of anger. When the ‘red mist’ descends we lose control, lost in rage. Mum was a Sagittarian, a fire sign, and she possessed (and was possessed by) volcanic anger. As a Leo, I too, am a fire sign, but I lost my roar in front of her. I lost my power. When I think of red I think of it being a powerful colour and I need to be in my empowered place to wear it. Red is a statement, it catches attention. It is the colour of blood, the heart and life force.
Red is the colour of the root chakra, symbolic of safety, security and rootedness. I’ve spent my life in search of these qualities and feelings, as represented by a search for home, both externally and internally. The colour of the heart chakra is green, and in colour theory green is a complementary colour to red.
Red is one of the primary colours, along with blue and yellow. As an artist I rarely use red. There’s an artistic device in which the addition of a dab of red will add interest to a painting and draw the eye. That’s a bit different to making a red painting. My artwork tends to be about calm. When I have worked with Red the images have been striking. Indian yantra patterns often contain red in their traditional colours.
Nowadays, I rarely see red shoes in the shops. Secretly, I’d love a pair of Laboutins with their amazing red soles, even though my hamstrings won’t let me wear high heels anymore, so I am confined to flatties. They may have comfort, but they’re simply not the same and definitely don’t signal ‘fuck me’ - or even ‘fuck you’.
Ooh! I love walking in your shoes, Lynn! 😘
You might be interested to have a look at this: https://racheljohnstonart.com/Undine
Women and shoes again.