Culture

Here goes a rant on a particular craze that a small minority seem to mindlessly follow on campus. As Peter Griffin would say, it’s really grinding my gears. Let me preface this by saying it is not the item itself which causes me to do double-takes, but rather the times and places in which this item is employed.
Away we go: why is there a following of people who take it upon themselves to wear heels to uni, becoming painfully visible as they flock between lecture theatre and library, wobbling around like the Cycle 2 winner of New Zealand’s Next Top Model before she learnt to walk? I cannot fathom why you would willingly put that extra pressure on your legs when clearly the mental stimulation of lectures, labs and assignments deciding what fillings to have in your Frankly sandwich is so great.
 
 
Don’t get me wrong; the extra height these lofty numbers provide, in an array of ankle-twisting styles, I find very welcome. However, some people need to realise that the social function of university is quite different to that of an evening out or a formal gathering. Invariably, this show-off-your-calves cult seems to have missed the balance gene. This is essentially the opposite extreme to the I-don’t-give-a-toss-but-check-out-my-arse leggings-as-pants-wearing skanks, but after years of hate littered through Critic I am doubtful they will ever take heed of the “advice” directed towards them. So, teetering campus princesses; take your ridiculous daytime gallivanting elsewhere. Self-expression is great; self-humiliation is not. And don’t even get me started on kitten heels.